Showing posts with label Sienna. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sienna. Show all posts
Monday, May 7, 2012
13 Baseball Sundays with Sienna: Game 3 - Kids Dash
Nobody wants to be "that guy" when it comes to a kid.
You hear or read about stories involving parents and children. The type of stories that you read and you think "that guy with the kid is an idiot." Whenever I am about to do something dumb when Sienna is around I think about how the newspaper article would read and whether the reaction would lead to "that guy with the kid is an idiot."
That very thought crossed my mind as I considered testing whether I could physically put the gas pedal through the floor of my Jetta. I could practically see my car going warp three up the BQE.
Sienna was in the backseat oblivious to my momentary day dream of a Star Trek engine in our Jetta. What was most likely on Sienna's mind was that Grandma was providing closeup entertainment in the back of the car. I could hear Grandma making various high pitched talking noises that resulted in high pitched squeals of joy from Sienna.
On the radio the Mets mothership - at least that is what I call it - informed me that the Mets were up 3 - 1 in the top of 9th with the Mets having a pitching change. A few extra minutes of time for me.
Important time. I wanted to get to the statement. I had a couple of VIP passes for Sienna and myself, specifically obtained so we could participate in the Kids Dash. That is if I managed to get to the stadium before the game ended.
I really wanted to speed.
25 YEARS EARLIER - BOSTONBathroom usage in Boston might as well be a VIP privilege. When the designers of the city created its spoke-like street setup, it not only foregoed common-sense design, it foregoed (forewent?) having bathrooms in the known universe.
Which was unfortunate as I told my brother, "I need to use the bathroom, Brian."
My brother and I were outside Fenway Park, clearly within range of hearing the roar of the crowd. Not that we had tickets. Not that we had actually planned on being anywhere NEAR Fenway Park that day. I don't know exactly what we were doing in Boston that day. Just that is was extremely hot and from the noise of the crowd...something was happening.
All of those facts had minimal impact at the time. The most important fact was I really need to empty my bladder.
The bathroom situation in Boston is so bad that in college my friends an I would be forced to turn an alley into a urinal. That is even though we could afford to go into a restaraunt and buy something, or into a bar, or into one of the millions of pizza places.
At thirteen I was too young to go into a bar, no way I'd be let into a restaurant, and I had no money for a pizza place. Which left the Boston Red Sox official team store as my last best hope.
"I'm going in there," I told my brother Brian. With that I wandered into the store, my brother informing me he would stay outside Fenway, his sixteen-year-old hormones satiated by watching girls.
10 MINUTES EARLIER - BROOKLYNI was behind a girl. A three-year-old girl to be specific. A slow moving three-year-old girl to be as specific as possible. It wasn't her fault I had left my tickets inside, thwarting my own plan to drive down the street as quickly as possible.
My neighbor was teaching her three-year-old daughter to navigate the steps of our apartment complex. A younger me would have a) jumped over both of them, or b) pushed on by them. The older more mature me with the hip injury that requires surgery can a) not jump over a phone book at this point, or b) risk being hip checked down some steps.
I waited with as much patience as I could muster. Knowing I had come so far with my Sunday adventure already and also that it would be ironic if I was late to the Kids Dash because a little kid walking in front of me was decidedly NOT dashing anywhere.
15 MINUTES EARLIER - BROOKLYN"I just need to use the bathroom and then we go." Grandma Trudy was rushing through the door into our apartment. She rightfully wanted to use the bathroom, after all she had just spent three plus hours stuck in traffic thanks to some sort of bicycle event that had taken over New York.
Sienna was adorable in her Sunday Mets best. Okay, Sienna was adorable in her Sunday Mets best half asleep in my arms, having just waken up from a long afternoon nap. Freshly changed it was about the only part of the plan that had gone correctly all day.
"I hope you haven't been waiting long." She adds the thought after she finishes using the bathroom.
"No, she has only been up for three minutes. Let's go." Grandma Trudy did not mentioned that I looked like an extra from some MLB souvenier commericials: Mets jersey, Mets hat, Mets t-shirt. Yeah, fandom gets a little crazy sometimes. Especially since most of the gear was due to Danielle's influence.
I needed backseat Grandma to feed Sienna though. One does not abandon his partner in crimes no matter the circumstances. Well, sometimes the circumstances do warrant it.
25 YEARS EARLIER - BOSTONThe circumstances warranted the ditching. I didn't intend to ditch Brian. It just sort of happened.
"Hey, you guys have a bathroom I can use?"
I'm inside the souvenir shop. My mouth waters from being surrounded by team gear I would never be able to afford. There is no one else in the shop, which accounts for the guy at the counter not even looking up as I enter.
"Yeah, go through the doors back there, take a right, top of the stairs."
I bolt in the direction of what he has given me. Through the doors...take a right...top of the stairs.
Suddenly I find myself along the third base loge INSIDE of Fenway Park. The crowd is on its feet cheering wildly.
The guy sent me into a bathroom INSIDE of Fenway Park. It is like a hidden trail that I am sure much wiser people than myself know about. How I didn't know about this is beyond me.
Though it doesn't matter to me. I am definitely in a place I am not supposed to be.
It is incredible what you can plan and execute in fifteen seconds. It was the seventh inning of the game with Boston at bat. People were up cheering and a Red Sox player was rounding third and heading for home. Less than fifteen feet away from I could see...seats.
Blessed empty seats a couple of people in from the aisle. That is if I snuck past the usher who was paying attention to the field, get past two people with seats next to the aisle.
Not a problem and approximately eight seconds later my full bladder and I were nestled into our seats. Two seats. Two bad Brian didn't come in with me.
30 MINUTES EARLIER - BROOKLYNI as nestled into the seat of our couch as I read the email from Danielle. She doesn't think I'll make the game. RA Dickey is a fast pitcher on a slow day. On a fast day RA Dickey resembles a sprinter who happens to pitch. Catch the ball, nearly runs to the mound, fires a pitch in.
RA Dickey is now ruining my afternoon. RA Dickey is personally screwing up my planned afternoon with my daughter. As a fellow parent I figured the man who have some sympathy for my plan.
In my mind RA Dickey also has a clue of existence and who I am. I can't always say I am firmly in reality.
I call Danielle.
"Maybe I should wake up Sienna."
I credit Danielle that she didn't just hang the phone up on me. No parent ever wishes a child wakeup. Ever. You just don't do it. It is unthinkable even as the words escape my mouth and reach my ears.
25 YEARS EARLIER - BOSTONThe words reach my ears. An undeniable klaxon of enjoyment interuptus. "I'm with him!"
There are words you don't want to hear and times you do not want to hear them.
As a younger brother I have been trained to react to my older brother's voice no matter where I am. In this case I'm in my seat at Fenway Park. I have no idea how my brother even spotted me. What I do know is he is arguing with the usher in the section where I am sitting in my illegal seat.
I have about six seconds before I'm about to lose my great seat at Fenway Park.
I turn to the guy next to me - I haven't even look at him since I sat down - I don't even care about his existence until this second. A guy in his mid-20s, his eyes are glazed over from too much beer, though to his credit he is sitting next to a super attractive blonde.
"I need your ticket stub," I say to the guy.
"Huh?"
"Ineedyourticketstub." It comes out twenty times faster than I'd like.
The guy is completely useless. Luckily the super attractive blonder is NOT.
"Here," she says, reaching across her useless date and handing me her ticket.
I turn toward my brother's direction and yell, "Hey, moron, you left your ticket stub!"
That gets the usher, my brother's, and pretty much everyone in the sections attention. My brother gives a "what can you do?" shrug to the usher then quickly joins me. We go play the farce to the end with myself handing him to the ticket as he sits down next to me.
"Were you planning on coming out?" Brian asks me.
"No," I tell him.
It's only the 7th inning. A few more innings of baseball to watch. I really would have left him outside. Business is business.
60 MINUTES EARLIER - BROOKLYN
Business is business. Grandma Trudy calls to give me an update. She is now less than a mile from the house. Traffic is crawling. At this rate Sienna will wake up and I'll have to make the decision on whether to wait for Grandma or not.
When I got married my father told me, "You aren't just marrying Danielle, you're marrying her mother too."
Realistically I won't leave Grandma behind. Really. I swear.
Okay, maybe I will. If she just drove faster then I wouldn't be left to the decision. I look at the baby monitor that is pointed at Sienna's bed. My daughter really loves her weekend sleep. All will be well. I ponder what sort of cosmic craziness would put Grandma late and Sienna awake.
90 MINUTES EARLIER - BROOKLYNMy Iphone buzzes with Danielle on the other end of the line. Her mother is stuck in traffic going on a trip to New Jersey. Do I care if she stops by the house?
Sure, no problem I tell her. Since I have an extra ticket I can even bring Grandma to the game with us. It isn't a completely altruistic maneuver. Depending on what time Sienna wakes up my daughter may be hungry. I know I'm going to want to get to the ballpark, though there is no way I'm NOT feeding and changing my child. If Grandma is around to help then I can change Sienna and Grandma can feed Sienna in the car.
I tell Danielle my reasoning. Just to make sure I'm not crossing over some unknown son-in-law line. I'm not.
I call Grandma Trudy. She is indeed stuck on the BQE, trying to get to New Jersey. She is grateful for the confirmation of a place to stop and yes, if she gets to me in time she will happily join us for the end of the baseball game. Grandma Trudy loves her Mets. She also loves her granddaughter Sienna.
One door closes, another one opens, or some sort of cliche like that.
2 HOURS EARLIER - BROOKLYN
I'm not watching the Mets game. I consider it bad form to spend one of the 13 Sundays watching baseball with Sienna not actually watching baseball with Sienna. The DVR is my friend. I have a lot of catching up to do. Since I'm irresponsible I choose to play video games instead.
25 YEARS EARLIER - BOSTONSince I'm irresponsible I try not to brag to the people around us. My brother gives me a withering look. The flirt shamelessly with the blonde, completely ignoring the drunk guy. I am thirteen, I am on top of the world.
2 HOURS 30 MINUTES EARLIER - BROOKLYNI am thirty-eight, I am on top of the world.
I put Sienna down for her nap. Her Sunday nap is usually just over and hour. Ninety minutes tops. We will get to the game, catch the final three innings, finally get her to see some live baseball this season, and importantly enough participate in the Kids Dash.
Sienna, looking glorious in her pink Mets onside that I've supplemented with a pair of her jeans, snuggles up to her stuffed leopard Spot and closes her eyes.
I laugh as I exit Sienna's bedroom and close the door.
25 YEARS EARLIER - BOSTON
My brother and I laugh as we exit Fenway Park. Three innings of baseball. Three innings of what-an-adventure enjoyment. I suddenly remember something.
"Brian, I still gotta take a piss."
CITI FIELD - THE PRESENT"And that's the ball game!"
No, I didn't time it perfectly. We pulled into the spot seconds AFTER the game ended. As we opened the door I could hear "Taking Care of Business" blaring out of the stadium.
I had seen the line that snaked around the outside of the stadium. Filled with people waiting to get in.
From last year's Kids Dash I knew that the field takes about 30 minutes to set up before people are let onto it. I loaded up Sienna into her baby bjorn in record time. Even with my injured hip I moved across the parking lot at a pretty good clip.
Danielle met us near an entrance - people streaming out as we tried to stream it. The toughest part will be getting people to understand we have a valid ticket. That is the toughest part.
The ticket.
Unlike 25 years ago I didn't need to sneak in the bathroom door this time. It was a matter of Danielle getting us to the correct person to zap our passes so we could go in with the VIP people. I can't even say my wife got us the passes. It didn't hurt that a beautiful woman once again kept me IN the ballpark once I was there.
And then Sienna and I ran the field together. Actually, that part isn't true. I carried Sienna around the field.
That part needs further explanation. Sienna did a koala hold - arms around my next, squeeze as hard as possible - as I carried her around the field. Even the Pepsi Patrol Party Girls remarking on my daughter's cuteness did not make the experience any more enjoyable.
That is until we reached home plate. At that point Sienna smiled, pulled her arms away from me and...reached out to Mommy who was waiting for her. I have a smart daughter. One who keeps me from driving too fast.
Kids Dash indeed. I am the guy carrying his child around the field. Nearly one year to the day that I carried her around the field.
I get to the be that guy.
Wayne
Monday, April 23, 2012
13 Baseball Sundays with Sienna: Game 2
13 Baseball Sundays with Sienna: Game 2
MANY YEARS AGO
I was pissed at my father. He knew it, I knew it, and at the risk of avoid the entire "I knew that he knew" conversation, let me just say there was no doubt between my Mother, Father, brother and myself that someone was in danger of losing his life that day.
Most likely myself since I was around seven years old.
There are several possibilities for the source of such as a tumultuous father-son moment. Girls. Money. Work. Or for a seven year old boy it would be leaving a baseball game during a rain delay that was in the third inning.
ME: DAD! WE'RE NOT LEAVING!
FATHER: We're leaving if I have to pick you up and carry you!
ME: NO!
We were standing under the Fenway Park bleachers, which during a rain delay doubled as a hide away cave with all the amenities that ancient caveman would have thought were terrible. The sun had long ago set along with the time when I was usually put into bed.
This was a special day though. A night game!
FATHER: Wayne!
I sat down at that point. Luckily my pants were already soaked from the rain delay so I didn't give too much thought to the sticky liquid that was suddenly seaping through my courderoys.
My Father turned a color that is best described as Fatherly Rage Red. Crayola could have made a million dollars off the color.
FATHER: The game is going to be called off.
ME: Then we can wait.
By now a small crowd had gathered. Mostly glaring at my father for daring to take his child away from a baseball game. I squeezed my eyes shut to make my father go away. At least that is how I remember the story.
Yes, I was ticked off. This was my birthday present. My first baseball game ever and my father - hater of sports - was ruining it for me!
Since my eyes were closed I felt his hands first. One on each shoulder. My eyes burst open long enough for tears to flood them as he bodily carried me out of Fenway Park.
Oh, where was my Mother during all of this? Shaking her head in disagreement as I was carried off.
FATHER: The ticket will be good for the makeup game.
The next morning I woke up to find out the game HAD been played. I didn't talk to my father for two weeks.
TWENTY SOMETHING YEARS LATER...ON A SATURDAY
Danielle was shaking her head in disagreement against me.
It was a gorgeous sunny day as we pushed Sienna through the cobbled streets of Cobbile Hill on our way to a play date with her daycare friend Tristan. Sienna was keeping a sharp lookout for dogs while she munched on her ever present cheerios. I was rehashing a conversation Danielle and I had been replaying for three days now.
There would be no Sunday baseball game for Sienna and myself.
On Danielle's side: weather reports, that she had been fighting a cold for nine days, and common-sense.
On my side: twenty years of fury at my father and a tiny bit of logic.
My logic was that Sienna would have to get used to inclement weather at some games. What better time than early in her life to teach her? We could layer her in rain gear - she loves the rain I had pointed out.
Danielle was not budging on this. I said a tiny bit of logic.
Danielle changed the subject to which bodega to get water from on Atlantic Avenue. I looked back at my daughter. Our children never know the battles we attempt to fight for them.
What we are willing to sit through.
A FEW MONTHS AGO
"I got enough sitting in the cold in Buffalo that's why."
My father was on the other end of the phone as I picked on him about not wanting to stay at the game. How I would never do that to my child.
I asked him what we was talking about. He never went to a sporting event in his life until my brother and I started sports.
Turns out not to be true.
When we lived in upstate New York the company he was Vice President for had Buffalo Bills season tickets. In the name of corporate synergy and happiness my father would go to the games with my mother.
I was shocked. It was like finding out there WAS an Easter Bunny.
"You sat in the cold?" I asked.
"Unfortunately," he laughed.
"What about us kids?"
"We'd leave you with your mother's friends, go tail gate, and watch the game. All I remember is how cold it was."
I wondered why my father would do such a thing. He laughed again.
"For the love of your mother."
YESTERDAY
"You know my mother will be here the whole day?"
I didn't answer. When the promise of a non-baseball game came through we had invited Grandma Trudy over for the day. It had been two weeks since she had seen Sienna.
It was 11:30 in the morning, Danielle had half an eye on the conversation with me, half an eye on her email as she was waiting for the game to be officially be called. The rain had just started coming down in bucketfuls, pushing toward Noah's Ark level at a rapid pace.
"Game is called," Danielle said, her Iphone bleeping at her, "you glad we didn't go?"
"No," I lied.
Danielle sighed as she tweeted out the game status. She knew she was right. I knew she was right. I'm just glad the game was canceled and would be made up.
Unlike twenty years earlier.
A kid doesn't forget such moments.
ADDENDUM
I should aside here that my father NEVER raised a hand to me. Actually his parenting advice to myself and my brother, If you get mad punch a door; never the child - the door can be replaced, not the child. My sister-in-law is horrified by this advice, my brother and I merely nod since we really did deserve a smack every now and again.
Wayne
MANY YEARS AGO
I was pissed at my father. He knew it, I knew it, and at the risk of avoid the entire "I knew that he knew" conversation, let me just say there was no doubt between my Mother, Father, brother and myself that someone was in danger of losing his life that day.
Most likely myself since I was around seven years old.
There are several possibilities for the source of such as a tumultuous father-son moment. Girls. Money. Work. Or for a seven year old boy it would be leaving a baseball game during a rain delay that was in the third inning.
ME: DAD! WE'RE NOT LEAVING!
FATHER: We're leaving if I have to pick you up and carry you!
ME: NO!
We were standing under the Fenway Park bleachers, which during a rain delay doubled as a hide away cave with all the amenities that ancient caveman would have thought were terrible. The sun had long ago set along with the time when I was usually put into bed.
This was a special day though. A night game!
FATHER: Wayne!
I sat down at that point. Luckily my pants were already soaked from the rain delay so I didn't give too much thought to the sticky liquid that was suddenly seaping through my courderoys.
My Father turned a color that is best described as Fatherly Rage Red. Crayola could have made a million dollars off the color.
FATHER: The game is going to be called off.
ME: Then we can wait.
By now a small crowd had gathered. Mostly glaring at my father for daring to take his child away from a baseball game. I squeezed my eyes shut to make my father go away. At least that is how I remember the story.
Yes, I was ticked off. This was my birthday present. My first baseball game ever and my father - hater of sports - was ruining it for me!
Since my eyes were closed I felt his hands first. One on each shoulder. My eyes burst open long enough for tears to flood them as he bodily carried me out of Fenway Park.
Oh, where was my Mother during all of this? Shaking her head in disagreement as I was carried off.
FATHER: The ticket will be good for the makeup game.
The next morning I woke up to find out the game HAD been played. I didn't talk to my father for two weeks.
TWENTY SOMETHING YEARS LATER...ON A SATURDAY
Danielle was shaking her head in disagreement against me.
It was a gorgeous sunny day as we pushed Sienna through the cobbled streets of Cobbile Hill on our way to a play date with her daycare friend Tristan. Sienna was keeping a sharp lookout for dogs while she munched on her ever present cheerios. I was rehashing a conversation Danielle and I had been replaying for three days now.
There would be no Sunday baseball game for Sienna and myself.
On Danielle's side: weather reports, that she had been fighting a cold for nine days, and common-sense.
On my side: twenty years of fury at my father and a tiny bit of logic.
My logic was that Sienna would have to get used to inclement weather at some games. What better time than early in her life to teach her? We could layer her in rain gear - she loves the rain I had pointed out.
Danielle was not budging on this. I said a tiny bit of logic.
Danielle changed the subject to which bodega to get water from on Atlantic Avenue. I looked back at my daughter. Our children never know the battles we attempt to fight for them.
What we are willing to sit through.
A FEW MONTHS AGO
"I got enough sitting in the cold in Buffalo that's why."
My father was on the other end of the phone as I picked on him about not wanting to stay at the game. How I would never do that to my child.
I asked him what we was talking about. He never went to a sporting event in his life until my brother and I started sports.
Turns out not to be true.
When we lived in upstate New York the company he was Vice President for had Buffalo Bills season tickets. In the name of corporate synergy and happiness my father would go to the games with my mother.
I was shocked. It was like finding out there WAS an Easter Bunny.
"You sat in the cold?" I asked.
"Unfortunately," he laughed.
"What about us kids?"
"We'd leave you with your mother's friends, go tail gate, and watch the game. All I remember is how cold it was."
I wondered why my father would do such a thing. He laughed again.
"For the love of your mother."
YESTERDAY
"You know my mother will be here the whole day?"
I didn't answer. When the promise of a non-baseball game came through we had invited Grandma Trudy over for the day. It had been two weeks since she had seen Sienna.
It was 11:30 in the morning, Danielle had half an eye on the conversation with me, half an eye on her email as she was waiting for the game to be officially be called. The rain had just started coming down in bucketfuls, pushing toward Noah's Ark level at a rapid pace.
"Game is called," Danielle said, her Iphone bleeping at her, "you glad we didn't go?"
"No," I lied.
Danielle sighed as she tweeted out the game status. She knew she was right. I knew she was right. I'm just glad the game was canceled and would be made up.
Unlike twenty years earlier.
A kid doesn't forget such moments.
ADDENDUM
I should aside here that my father NEVER raised a hand to me. Actually his parenting advice to myself and my brother, If you get mad punch a door; never the child - the door can be replaced, not the child. My sister-in-law is horrified by this advice, my brother and I merely nod since we really did deserve a smack every now and again.
Wayne
Monday, April 9, 2012
13 Baseball Sundays with Sienna: Game 1 - part 2
Part 2 of Game 1
The wind always blasts you in the face.
That the first thing you take in when you exit the corporate office onto the right field ramp. On a hot day it causes a temperature illusion as you exit air conditioned offices into a wonderfully shading spot, giving you the not exactly true belief you are not actually standing in a New York inferno. On a cold day it peels your clothes off instantly and then attempts to freeze off your skin layer-by-layer.
Sienna scrunched her face up, nearly vanishing beneath her pink winter hat. I knew 1a child can make a face tinier, somehow she managed to minimize her head. Maybe she just slumped into her tiny sleeping bag. I know there is a different name for the bag that covers her in the stroller, really though it is a tiny sleeping bag.
The second thing you take in when you exit the corporate office onto the right field ramp is a surprisingly good view of the parking lot, the 7 train, and part of the chop shops. Oh, sorry, the "secondary car service market."
Sienna wasn't impressed by the view. She may have even growled at me.
I got her into the sun as fast as possible so she wouldn't start screaming. I will now let you onto a not-secret-all bit of parenting thought. 97% of the actions we take as a parent of a toddler is to minimize a potential upset child. Parents will claim we are trying to make them into better future citizens, or make the world a better place, or prepare the child for life.
We are lying. We don't want out child to cry. We inherently know our child will be cranky, upset, screaming little demon children and lead to conversations that my father and mother once had about myself and my brother:
"You keep the kids, I'll keep the pictures."
That is the level a child can cause a parent to reach.
When I say I don't want her to start screaming, I know this contradicts my earlier statement that I don't care if she throws a tantrum. I really do mean both. I also know that I wanted her in the sun as quickly as possible.
The Pepsi Porch
The Pepsi Porch were the first seats I ever sat in at Citi Field. I wish I remembered that at the time I taking the elevator up there - I wasn't. Either way, Sienna and I have a nice commonality, even when it is completely coincidental.
You could hear the low crack of batting practice, maybe even a little thump of the ball hitting the mitt, and definitely the early season sound of a child asking his father for a hot dog.
One picture and two minutes later we were rolling off the Porch. It was only 11:48 AM and cold. Sienna wasn't suitably distracted by the field going ons. There weren't enough people for her to check out. Daddy certainly isn't interesting enough.
Coincidentally the first time I sat in the Pepsi Porch is cold, there was a rain delay, and my friends and I lasted about the same about of time. Sienna and I continued the path of what my friends and I did the first time.
We went to the club.
Caesar's Club
I really wish the Caesar's Club would put a few slots or perhaps a black jack table in it. Even rolling my daughter in I felt that way. Being pre-noon and the first day to the park for a lot of people (or so I imagine) the club is thinly populated.
Which is great for Sienna and myself.
Caesar's Club has window the runs the length the exterior of the ballpark and it is slightly cordoned off by a large wall. A brilliant person added in soft couches, plush one person king seats grouped together and some coffee tables since the brilliant person most likely had children and knew they needed a spot to run around. Some large screen TVs add to the ambiance and are tuned in to SNY so the parents can still catch the game.
We parked ourselves onto an area with four king seats with a view of a TV.
Sienna was thrilled to be released. At least that was the reason I told myself as she threw her arms around my neck and clutched on for dear life as she peered over my shoulder.
Okay, maybe she just loves Daddy.
Okay, most likely she was exhibiting her usual caution for new situations. Caution for new situations entails 15 minutes of peering around, considering her options and then venturing out to the new environment.
In this case the usual 15 minutes took 18 minutes before she signalled that she wanted to be put on the floor. She she signalled for her cheerios. Signalling for her cheerios consists of bouncing up and down on knees while reaching skyward. This is not to be confused with "pick me" which is she performs the same action yet does not bounce.
Sienna's cheerio bounce was interupted when a mother with a baby carriage covered completely in Mets gear came to a rest at the seats next to us. How do I know it was a mother? You can tell, trust me.
I started talking with the mother. In the baby carriage was a four-month old going to her first baseball game. The mother was joined by her other child, a five year old boy dressed head-to-toe in Mets gear, and the father who was adorned similarly.
The entire scene was to Sienna's interest. Especially given the bag of popcorn the father was putting on the table of the son to eat.
Sienna can be cat-like when she wants something. Like the pieces of popcorn that came to rest of the floor of the Caesar's Club carpeted floor. I got my hands around her as she reached within a couple of feet of the renegade kernels.
The mother chuckled at the entire situation while the father gave a bored look. The mother was in the midst of feeding the newborn milk and then hustled off to change her. The father maintaining the same bored look the entire time.
Maybe someday I'll have that look. Either way I manuevered Sienna back to our spot where various older strangers cooed and smiled at Sienna. Sienna maintained her composure while nibbling on cheerios and taking everything in.
Sienna's first pitch & a Stroll
I made the decision that stuffing Sienna back into stroller to take her out for a live first pitch wasn't happening. She wasn't showing any interest in her milk, her toys, or even the cheerios anymore.
When she stops moving around this is the indication that she is tired and most likely wants a nap.
Therefore the first pitch of the Sunday season was...two guys nearly blocking the view of the tv. I guess not every Sunday will be perfect.
Still, it was now about 1:20 and Danielle was still working. Which left me with a tired child, too cold to go outside and the need to put her down for a nap. A parent will do what a parent needs to do in this situation.
I put her in the stroller and started rolling her around the Caesar's Club.
This isn't that unusual. At least judging from the lack of reaction from people. I don't know what I was expecting. From the staff it was complete indifference and from strangers it was knowing smiles.
I was just happy that Sienna was enjoying the trip. Her eyes darted about as she checked out the various food offerings. Definitely my daughter as she looked at a pastrami sandwich.
On the fifth strolled around the Caesar's Club I noticed a young girl sitting on a couch near Sienna and I had first started.
The girl with the bookNormally I would not have noticed a young girl, probably ten or eleven years old decked out in pink Mets gear (suitable until age 7, come on parents!). Except she had lounged herself on the couch and was reading a book.
I respect a move like that. Reading takes priority and there was no stopping her.
As she sat there her mother, carrying french fries, joined her on the couch. The young daughter repositioned herself to cuddle against the maternal one. The maternal one ate french fries and watched the game.
I had to smile. I KNOW I will be doing the same thing with Sienna at some point. At least the parent was in good spirits about the entire situation. She even gave a smile to me as I strollered past.
Starting my sixth time through.
Sienna makes her moveI made it a full circle before Sienna became restless. The nap was definitely NOT going to happen, so I released her from her baby bondage to see if she wanted to get a little exercise.
Maybe it was the familiarity of six times around the place but Sienna bolted the second I put her on the flood. The pitter patter of little feet as she headed toward the salad bar. The smile of a Caesar Club worker's face as Sienna headed toward her.
My look of concern as Sienna banged a left toward the main dining area and the foot traffic.
"Um, excuse my baby," I said as Sienna reached the dining area. Usually Sienna has zero interest in tiles. This time she left the rug and continued on her journey.
The patrons laughed. It is hard to be angry on Opening Day weekend. Though if Sienna crawls in there during a hot day during a losing streak she may get stepped on.
I picked Sienna up, turned her around and encouraged her to crawl back to our home base. I know, sometimes Daddy's are no fun. Danielle checked in around that time, saying she was done with her work and would be coming by with some food.
Which was good since I hadn't eaten all day.
Sienna's pizza
Sienna ventured back to our starting point.
Meanwhile the Girl with the book was joined by her father. The mother laughing as she headed back out to the game.
I arrived in time for the 1following conversation.
Father: Would you--
Girl: Reading.
Father: It's--
Girl. --cold. I'm reading.
Father: But.
Girl: Daaaadddd.
Boy I can DEFINITELY wait for Sienna to grow up and have those conversations. Some people say, "I can't wait for my child to talk!" Danielle and myself take a more practical approach. We don't wish for anything.
Danielle met up with us holding a culinary delight. Sienna gave her best "hi Mommy!" smile, which is an intoxicating grin that is specifically for Mommy (I get a more low rent version, which is slighly below the leve the cat gets.) I gave my best "hi wife!" smile, quickly spying the four slice of Two Boots pizza she was holding.
See, Mommy's always nourish. This was a no-brainer since I love pizza. My stomach can attest to this. Also Sienna has enjoyed pizza in the past. Nibbling off the ends while grinning madly. Though since she wasn't interested in cheerios she certainly wouldn't be--
Sienna went right for the pizza.
Mommy, Daddy, and Sienna then sat and ate four slices of pizza for the family's first food of the season.
Sienna goes home not having seen any of the live action
Less than half an hour later we rolled Sienna out into the parking lot. She didn't see a pitch the day, I think I explained to her a few terms, she certainly saw some colors. She WAS bribed with food, so at least that part of the plan worked.
On the way how she fell asleep to the sounds of the Mets on the radio. An event that is certain to be repeated time and again through out this summer. At least until she starts asking for Yo Gabba Gabba.
Wayne
The wind always blasts you in the face.
That the first thing you take in when you exit the corporate office onto the right field ramp. On a hot day it causes a temperature illusion as you exit air conditioned offices into a wonderfully shading spot, giving you the not exactly true belief you are not actually standing in a New York inferno. On a cold day it peels your clothes off instantly and then attempts to freeze off your skin layer-by-layer.
Sienna scrunched her face up, nearly vanishing beneath her pink winter hat. I knew 1a child can make a face tinier, somehow she managed to minimize her head. Maybe she just slumped into her tiny sleeping bag. I know there is a different name for the bag that covers her in the stroller, really though it is a tiny sleeping bag.
The second thing you take in when you exit the corporate office onto the right field ramp is a surprisingly good view of the parking lot, the 7 train, and part of the chop shops. Oh, sorry, the "secondary car service market."
Sienna wasn't impressed by the view. She may have even growled at me.
I got her into the sun as fast as possible so she wouldn't start screaming. I will now let you onto a not-secret-all bit of parenting thought. 97% of the actions we take as a parent of a toddler is to minimize a potential upset child. Parents will claim we are trying to make them into better future citizens, or make the world a better place, or prepare the child for life.
We are lying. We don't want out child to cry. We inherently know our child will be cranky, upset, screaming little demon children and lead to conversations that my father and mother once had about myself and my brother:
"You keep the kids, I'll keep the pictures."
That is the level a child can cause a parent to reach.
When I say I don't want her to start screaming, I know this contradicts my earlier statement that I don't care if she throws a tantrum. I really do mean both. I also know that I wanted her in the sun as quickly as possible.
The Pepsi Porch
The Pepsi Porch were the first seats I ever sat in at Citi Field. I wish I remembered that at the time I taking the elevator up there - I wasn't. Either way, Sienna and I have a nice commonality, even when it is completely coincidental.
You could hear the low crack of batting practice, maybe even a little thump of the ball hitting the mitt, and definitely the early season sound of a child asking his father for a hot dog.
One picture and two minutes later we were rolling off the Porch. It was only 11:48 AM and cold. Sienna wasn't suitably distracted by the field going ons. There weren't enough people for her to check out. Daddy certainly isn't interesting enough.
Coincidentally the first time I sat in the Pepsi Porch is cold, there was a rain delay, and my friends and I lasted about the same about of time. Sienna and I continued the path of what my friends and I did the first time.
We went to the club.
Caesar's Club
I really wish the Caesar's Club would put a few slots or perhaps a black jack table in it. Even rolling my daughter in I felt that way. Being pre-noon and the first day to the park for a lot of people (or so I imagine) the club is thinly populated.
Which is great for Sienna and myself.
Caesar's Club has window the runs the length the exterior of the ballpark and it is slightly cordoned off by a large wall. A brilliant person added in soft couches, plush one person king seats grouped together and some coffee tables since the brilliant person most likely had children and knew they needed a spot to run around. Some large screen TVs add to the ambiance and are tuned in to SNY so the parents can still catch the game.
We parked ourselves onto an area with four king seats with a view of a TV.
Sienna was thrilled to be released. At least that was the reason I told myself as she threw her arms around my neck and clutched on for dear life as she peered over my shoulder.
Okay, maybe she just loves Daddy.
Okay, most likely she was exhibiting her usual caution for new situations. Caution for new situations entails 15 minutes of peering around, considering her options and then venturing out to the new environment.
In this case the usual 15 minutes took 18 minutes before she signalled that she wanted to be put on the floor. She she signalled for her cheerios. Signalling for her cheerios consists of bouncing up and down on knees while reaching skyward. This is not to be confused with "pick me" which is she performs the same action yet does not bounce.
Sienna's cheerio bounce was interupted when a mother with a baby carriage covered completely in Mets gear came to a rest at the seats next to us. How do I know it was a mother? You can tell, trust me.
I started talking with the mother. In the baby carriage was a four-month old going to her first baseball game. The mother was joined by her other child, a five year old boy dressed head-to-toe in Mets gear, and the father who was adorned similarly.
The entire scene was to Sienna's interest. Especially given the bag of popcorn the father was putting on the table of the son to eat.
Sienna can be cat-like when she wants something. Like the pieces of popcorn that came to rest of the floor of the Caesar's Club carpeted floor. I got my hands around her as she reached within a couple of feet of the renegade kernels.
The mother chuckled at the entire situation while the father gave a bored look. The mother was in the midst of feeding the newborn milk and then hustled off to change her. The father maintaining the same bored look the entire time.
Maybe someday I'll have that look. Either way I manuevered Sienna back to our spot where various older strangers cooed and smiled at Sienna. Sienna maintained her composure while nibbling on cheerios and taking everything in.
Sienna's first pitch & a Stroll
I made the decision that stuffing Sienna back into stroller to take her out for a live first pitch wasn't happening. She wasn't showing any interest in her milk, her toys, or even the cheerios anymore.
When she stops moving around this is the indication that she is tired and most likely wants a nap.
Therefore the first pitch of the Sunday season was...two guys nearly blocking the view of the tv. I guess not every Sunday will be perfect.
Still, it was now about 1:20 and Danielle was still working. Which left me with a tired child, too cold to go outside and the need to put her down for a nap. A parent will do what a parent needs to do in this situation.
I put her in the stroller and started rolling her around the Caesar's Club.
This isn't that unusual. At least judging from the lack of reaction from people. I don't know what I was expecting. From the staff it was complete indifference and from strangers it was knowing smiles.
I was just happy that Sienna was enjoying the trip. Her eyes darted about as she checked out the various food offerings. Definitely my daughter as she looked at a pastrami sandwich.
On the fifth strolled around the Caesar's Club I noticed a young girl sitting on a couch near Sienna and I had first started.
The girl with the bookNormally I would not have noticed a young girl, probably ten or eleven years old decked out in pink Mets gear (suitable until age 7, come on parents!). Except she had lounged herself on the couch and was reading a book.
I respect a move like that. Reading takes priority and there was no stopping her.
As she sat there her mother, carrying french fries, joined her on the couch. The young daughter repositioned herself to cuddle against the maternal one. The maternal one ate french fries and watched the game.
I had to smile. I KNOW I will be doing the same thing with Sienna at some point. At least the parent was in good spirits about the entire situation. She even gave a smile to me as I strollered past.
Starting my sixth time through.
Sienna makes her moveI made it a full circle before Sienna became restless. The nap was definitely NOT going to happen, so I released her from her baby bondage to see if she wanted to get a little exercise.
Maybe it was the familiarity of six times around the place but Sienna bolted the second I put her on the flood. The pitter patter of little feet as she headed toward the salad bar. The smile of a Caesar Club worker's face as Sienna headed toward her.
My look of concern as Sienna banged a left toward the main dining area and the foot traffic.
"Um, excuse my baby," I said as Sienna reached the dining area. Usually Sienna has zero interest in tiles. This time she left the rug and continued on her journey.
The patrons laughed. It is hard to be angry on Opening Day weekend. Though if Sienna crawls in there during a hot day during a losing streak she may get stepped on.
I picked Sienna up, turned her around and encouraged her to crawl back to our home base. I know, sometimes Daddy's are no fun. Danielle checked in around that time, saying she was done with her work and would be coming by with some food.
Which was good since I hadn't eaten all day.
Sienna's pizza
Sienna ventured back to our starting point.
Meanwhile the Girl with the book was joined by her father. The mother laughing as she headed back out to the game.
I arrived in time for the 1following conversation.
Father: Would you--
Girl: Reading.
Father: It's--
Girl. --cold. I'm reading.
Father: But.
Girl: Daaaadddd.
Boy I can DEFINITELY wait for Sienna to grow up and have those conversations. Some people say, "I can't wait for my child to talk!" Danielle and myself take a more practical approach. We don't wish for anything.
Danielle met up with us holding a culinary delight. Sienna gave her best "hi Mommy!" smile, which is an intoxicating grin that is specifically for Mommy (I get a more low rent version, which is slighly below the leve the cat gets.) I gave my best "hi wife!" smile, quickly spying the four slice of Two Boots pizza she was holding.
See, Mommy's always nourish. This was a no-brainer since I love pizza. My stomach can attest to this. Also Sienna has enjoyed pizza in the past. Nibbling off the ends while grinning madly. Though since she wasn't interested in cheerios she certainly wouldn't be--
Sienna went right for the pizza.
Mommy, Daddy, and Sienna then sat and ate four slices of pizza for the family's first food of the season.
Sienna goes home not having seen any of the live action
Less than half an hour later we rolled Sienna out into the parking lot. She didn't see a pitch the day, I think I explained to her a few terms, she certainly saw some colors. She WAS bribed with food, so at least that part of the plan worked.
On the way how she fell asleep to the sounds of the Mets on the radio. An event that is certain to be repeated time and again through out this summer. At least until she starts asking for Yo Gabba Gabba.
Wayne
Sunday, April 8, 2012
13 Baseball Sundays with Sienna: Game 1 - part 1
Saturday Night's All Right for Worrying
Sienna looked like she had been punched in the eye. Now before anyone goes calling child services you will be pleased to know what she was NOT punched in the eye. However appearances can be deceiving and the swelled, puffy eye lid had reduced her right eye to a tiny slit.
It still didn't keep a crocodile tear from escaping as she bellowed her displeasure while simultaneously opening her left eye as wide as possible in an effort to maximize the parental guilt of putting her to bed. A baseball game tomorrow? How about just get a sick, grumpy child to bed.
Saturday, 6:57 PM. Who doesn't love a cranky child? Sienna had been sick off and on through most of the week, including a lethargic Saturday that included a reduced appetite. A fever had been yo-yoing in and out of her since early in the week, a sickness so bad that it included a) Grandman taking care of her, b) Daddy taking a day off from work to take care of her, and c) a call to the Doctor.
Pink-eye and other childhood maladies were thankfully ruled out. All I was left with was a sick, grumpy child tossed in with the belief that it would take divine intervention for this child to go to the game tomorrow. I don't care what anyone says, A crusty eye-lid never looks good.
Sunday - Game Day.
Maybe.When Danielle works a weekend game day it requires her to go to the ballpark early. This is a natural part of the process, never bothering us before. It just means that since she has the car and I am hitching a ride then I'M going to the ballpark early. If I am taking Sienna with me this means WE are all going to the ballpark early.
There are some tactical advantages to such an arrangement. First and foremost no 75 minute weekend subway ride from Brooklyn to Queens. Another tactical advantage is that during BP I have a greater chance at a foul ball. Unfortunately THAT tactical advantage has never paid off. Which not-so-secretly is one of the main reasons I want to take Sienna.
Size Matters
Before Fenway Park became semi-famous for its Monster Seats atop the left field wall - a view a mere 300 something feet away from homeplate where I can tell you from experience a BP line drive doesn't make you want to catch the ball it makes you leap out of the way so aren't killed - it had a net over the left field wall. Actually a baseball travels so fast that it could rip a hole through the net. Remember this information as it becomes important in a few paragraphs.
Local legend has it that net was erected to either protect the windows of the warehouse on Landsdowne street or that management was so cheap it didn't want to lose baseballs. For reference I will now point out that there is a ladder that is on the FRONT of the Green Monster which served go purpose other than to get someone to the top of the wall (or make for an interesting adventure if a ball hit it during the game.)
I vote for the latter.
Now Bostonians are enterprising by nature. We throw tea into harbors, elect crooked Mayors, and figured out that a well placed throw of a small wooden block could knock a baseball out of the net through a small hole and ONTO THE STREET. Yes, now you are to recall the above mention of balls creating holes.
A mad scramble would that ensue for the baseball.
My brother was 12 and I was nine when we first started getting involved in the baseball scrums. Why no one just took a piece of wood and clubbed us with it is beyond me. Probably because it was a good two years before we had a logistical chance at a ball.
My brother dove into one particular scrum and got his hand on the ball - he came up eye-to-eye with a giant Bostonian (we can tell our own by sight) with a neck as thick as my brother's body. My brother looked the Bostonian straight and the eye and asked, "I'm 12."
Back in those days being 12 meant something. Meaning that if you were 20-whatever the giant was he wouldn't just take something away from a kid. This was one of three times my brother or I would get our hands on a baseball.
My brother got the baseball and I learned size matters.
Back to Sunday
I guessed that no baseball player can resist an adorable child in a baby bjorn. Never mind one dressed in pink - perfectly legal in this case. A sure win for my child-who-is-only-in-the-bottom-5-percent-size-wise.
On Sunday morning I gathered Sienna at her crib. Her tiny arms raised toward the heavens as I picked her up, took one look at her eye and said, "Yes! We can go the game!" Also, as throw-in it was Easter Sunday and as Crash Davis once said (paraphrased) baseball is a church!
A church we could attend if the eye...
...eye looks normal! Now it merely gave you the impression she was rubbing her eye a lot. Still, a morning meal wasn't as hearty as I would have liked, nor enough milk could be drank.
Danielle and I made a tactical decision. I am pretty sure all parents make tactical decisions. Our reasoning was, Life isn't perfect and if she is cranky at the game I can leave Danielle at the park and take our child home.
At the time it made sense. Well, if you ignore the reasoning that involves your wife taking traing 75 minutes to get home. On a cold day.
That is correct it is cold out. One of those 60 degrees if you're in the sun, though really 50 degrees in the sun because of the wind, never mind if you are in the shade kind of cold days. We packed Sienna up accordingly: extra heavy jacket to change into once we got to the park, baby bjorn, carriage, extra milk and extra cheerios.
Sienna even rewarded us with a nap and despite some last minute glitches we actually left the house in plenty of time, hit no traffic on the BQE, and arrived at the ballpark a full half an hour before Danielle had to give a tour to a contest winner.
Yes, our brilliant, "We can make it through this!" decision making was a cold day too.
It was fantastic. We put Sienna in her carriage, whisked her through security, stopping long enough for admiring looks from some of Danielle's co-workers, and then going straight to Danielle's office so she could start getting some work done.
There was even BP. We are talking the chance for glory, free baseballs and ... is that Sienna being cranky? Why yes, yes it is.
Cranky in the Office
Sienna wasn't having so much of a bad day as she is in a "shy" state and not too fond of surroundings. That part isn't true. She is fine with surroundings unless Mommy leaves - at which point there is some crying.
The office was eerily quiet when we arrived, owing to the holy day, the start of Passover and some third reason I am likely forgetting. Sienna was happy to be out of her stroller, amusing herself by crawling around Mommy's office like the young explorer she is.
She was definitely cranky though. A parent can tell these things. I could also tell since Danielle left the office to use the bathroom. Sienna crawled after her, straight into the hallway. I picked her up so she wouldn't turn the area into her playground - okay I didn't want her to be stepped on - and when I lifted her skyward she developed a tiny frown on her place.
Luckily Danielle's office neighbor Emily (not her real name) was in. Emily loved Sienna last year when we brought Sienna to the office as a three-month-old. I guessed Emily would enjoy seeing the baby progress. I guessed right.
Emily grinned, talked the fine baby talk and even rubbed Sienna's belly a bit. Sienna could have cared less since she noticed the mini souvenir batting helmets that you receive once you eat ice cream. Mental note for me? No, physical note as Emily was kind enough to let us play with one.
After a couple of minutes I left Emily get back to work - that Danielle came back from the bathroom was merely a coincidence. I swear.
Danielle told me I could stay in her office while she gave the tour. Stay in the office? I had a ballpark to reintroduce my daughter to! Danielle vanished - once again resulted in an upset Sienna. However I took out my secret weapon at this point: the baby bjorn.
Sienna goes crazy at the site of it. Now was no exception. I slipped her into her heavier coat, put her into the bjorn and...could not get the stupid thing to lock up.
When I say this has never happened it has never happened. It was a three minute struggle as I tried to get it loose enough to get my child to be happy in it. I knew Sienna's heavy coat was bulky - for some reason it had become an impossibility.
Which is when Sienna started to cry.
Not a small sob, or "this is unjust." This was a full on, Daddy knock it off wail! The sound echoed too loudly for my tastes. I am not the type to worry about what anyone thinks of my screaming child except...we were at Danielle's place of work and I didn't want to disrupt anyone.
At least while Danielle wasn't around.
I muttered several hundred curses as I attempted to switch from Baby Bjorn to carriage. The difficulty was increased 50 fold as Sienna took that exact moment to arch her body like a bow and show the strength and resiliency of an upset child.
An upset child alerting to the world to her distress in her loudest tiniest voice.
She finally calmed down as held her in my arms, leaving enough room for her to jam a thumb into her mouth while she looked at me with both eyes wide - her formerly swollen eye showing not ill effects of anything other than being watered by her tears.
Thoughts of free baseballs were erased from my brain. This was now a matter of survival. I wondered what the heck I had gotten myself into.
...to be continued
Wayne
Sienna looked like she had been punched in the eye. Now before anyone goes calling child services you will be pleased to know what she was NOT punched in the eye. However appearances can be deceiving and the swelled, puffy eye lid had reduced her right eye to a tiny slit.
It still didn't keep a crocodile tear from escaping as she bellowed her displeasure while simultaneously opening her left eye as wide as possible in an effort to maximize the parental guilt of putting her to bed. A baseball game tomorrow? How about just get a sick, grumpy child to bed.
Saturday, 6:57 PM. Who doesn't love a cranky child? Sienna had been sick off and on through most of the week, including a lethargic Saturday that included a reduced appetite. A fever had been yo-yoing in and out of her since early in the week, a sickness so bad that it included a) Grandman taking care of her, b) Daddy taking a day off from work to take care of her, and c) a call to the Doctor.
Pink-eye and other childhood maladies were thankfully ruled out. All I was left with was a sick, grumpy child tossed in with the belief that it would take divine intervention for this child to go to the game tomorrow. I don't care what anyone says, A crusty eye-lid never looks good.
Sunday - Game Day.
Maybe.When Danielle works a weekend game day it requires her to go to the ballpark early. This is a natural part of the process, never bothering us before. It just means that since she has the car and I am hitching a ride then I'M going to the ballpark early. If I am taking Sienna with me this means WE are all going to the ballpark early.
There are some tactical advantages to such an arrangement. First and foremost no 75 minute weekend subway ride from Brooklyn to Queens. Another tactical advantage is that during BP I have a greater chance at a foul ball. Unfortunately THAT tactical advantage has never paid off. Which not-so-secretly is one of the main reasons I want to take Sienna.
Size Matters
Before Fenway Park became semi-famous for its Monster Seats atop the left field wall - a view a mere 300 something feet away from homeplate where I can tell you from experience a BP line drive doesn't make you want to catch the ball it makes you leap out of the way so aren't killed - it had a net over the left field wall. Actually a baseball travels so fast that it could rip a hole through the net. Remember this information as it becomes important in a few paragraphs.
Local legend has it that net was erected to either protect the windows of the warehouse on Landsdowne street or that management was so cheap it didn't want to lose baseballs. For reference I will now point out that there is a ladder that is on the FRONT of the Green Monster which served go purpose other than to get someone to the top of the wall (or make for an interesting adventure if a ball hit it during the game.)
I vote for the latter.
Now Bostonians are enterprising by nature. We throw tea into harbors, elect crooked Mayors, and figured out that a well placed throw of a small wooden block could knock a baseball out of the net through a small hole and ONTO THE STREET. Yes, now you are to recall the above mention of balls creating holes.
A mad scramble would that ensue for the baseball.
My brother was 12 and I was nine when we first started getting involved in the baseball scrums. Why no one just took a piece of wood and clubbed us with it is beyond me. Probably because it was a good two years before we had a logistical chance at a ball.
My brother dove into one particular scrum and got his hand on the ball - he came up eye-to-eye with a giant Bostonian (we can tell our own by sight) with a neck as thick as my brother's body. My brother looked the Bostonian straight and the eye and asked, "I'm 12."
Back in those days being 12 meant something. Meaning that if you were 20-whatever the giant was he wouldn't just take something away from a kid. This was one of three times my brother or I would get our hands on a baseball.
My brother got the baseball and I learned size matters.
Back to Sunday
I guessed that no baseball player can resist an adorable child in a baby bjorn. Never mind one dressed in pink - perfectly legal in this case. A sure win for my child-who-is-only-in-the-bottom-5-percent-size-wise.
On Sunday morning I gathered Sienna at her crib. Her tiny arms raised toward the heavens as I picked her up, took one look at her eye and said, "Yes! We can go the game!" Also, as throw-in it was Easter Sunday and as Crash Davis once said (paraphrased) baseball is a church!
A church we could attend if the eye...
...eye looks normal! Now it merely gave you the impression she was rubbing her eye a lot. Still, a morning meal wasn't as hearty as I would have liked, nor enough milk could be drank.
Danielle and I made a tactical decision. I am pretty sure all parents make tactical decisions. Our reasoning was, Life isn't perfect and if she is cranky at the game I can leave Danielle at the park and take our child home.
At the time it made sense. Well, if you ignore the reasoning that involves your wife taking traing 75 minutes to get home. On a cold day.
That is correct it is cold out. One of those 60 degrees if you're in the sun, though really 50 degrees in the sun because of the wind, never mind if you are in the shade kind of cold days. We packed Sienna up accordingly: extra heavy jacket to change into once we got to the park, baby bjorn, carriage, extra milk and extra cheerios.
Sienna even rewarded us with a nap and despite some last minute glitches we actually left the house in plenty of time, hit no traffic on the BQE, and arrived at the ballpark a full half an hour before Danielle had to give a tour to a contest winner.
Yes, our brilliant, "We can make it through this!" decision making was a cold day too.
It was fantastic. We put Sienna in her carriage, whisked her through security, stopping long enough for admiring looks from some of Danielle's co-workers, and then going straight to Danielle's office so she could start getting some work done.
There was even BP. We are talking the chance for glory, free baseballs and ... is that Sienna being cranky? Why yes, yes it is.
Cranky in the Office
Sienna wasn't having so much of a bad day as she is in a "shy" state and not too fond of surroundings. That part isn't true. She is fine with surroundings unless Mommy leaves - at which point there is some crying.
The office was eerily quiet when we arrived, owing to the holy day, the start of Passover and some third reason I am likely forgetting. Sienna was happy to be out of her stroller, amusing herself by crawling around Mommy's office like the young explorer she is.
She was definitely cranky though. A parent can tell these things. I could also tell since Danielle left the office to use the bathroom. Sienna crawled after her, straight into the hallway. I picked her up so she wouldn't turn the area into her playground - okay I didn't want her to be stepped on - and when I lifted her skyward she developed a tiny frown on her place.
Luckily Danielle's office neighbor Emily (not her real name) was in. Emily loved Sienna last year when we brought Sienna to the office as a three-month-old. I guessed Emily would enjoy seeing the baby progress. I guessed right.
Emily grinned, talked the fine baby talk and even rubbed Sienna's belly a bit. Sienna could have cared less since she noticed the mini souvenir batting helmets that you receive once you eat ice cream. Mental note for me? No, physical note as Emily was kind enough to let us play with one.
After a couple of minutes I left Emily get back to work - that Danielle came back from the bathroom was merely a coincidence. I swear.
Danielle told me I could stay in her office while she gave the tour. Stay in the office? I had a ballpark to reintroduce my daughter to! Danielle vanished - once again resulted in an upset Sienna. However I took out my secret weapon at this point: the baby bjorn.
Sienna goes crazy at the site of it. Now was no exception. I slipped her into her heavier coat, put her into the bjorn and...could not get the stupid thing to lock up.
When I say this has never happened it has never happened. It was a three minute struggle as I tried to get it loose enough to get my child to be happy in it. I knew Sienna's heavy coat was bulky - for some reason it had become an impossibility.
Which is when Sienna started to cry.
Not a small sob, or "this is unjust." This was a full on, Daddy knock it off wail! The sound echoed too loudly for my tastes. I am not the type to worry about what anyone thinks of my screaming child except...we were at Danielle's place of work and I didn't want to disrupt anyone.
At least while Danielle wasn't around.
I muttered several hundred curses as I attempted to switch from Baby Bjorn to carriage. The difficulty was increased 50 fold as Sienna took that exact moment to arch her body like a bow and show the strength and resiliency of an upset child.
An upset child alerting to the world to her distress in her loudest tiniest voice.
She finally calmed down as held her in my arms, leaving enough room for her to jam a thumb into her mouth while she looked at me with both eyes wide - her formerly swollen eye showing not ill effects of anything other than being watered by her tears.
Thoughts of free baseballs were erased from my brain. This was now a matter of survival. I wondered what the heck I had gotten myself into.
...to be continued
Wayne
Monday, March 19, 2012
Tales of the Daughter: Daddy & Sienna go to a birthday party
One of Danielle's closest friends is Brian. So close that she signed the Ketubah at his wedding and he signed ours. Fast-forward to now and Brian has a two-year-old daughter Logan. It was Logan's birthday and hey, Sienna was invited to the party.
Naturally Danielle got sick this past weekend when Logan's party was planned. I've certainly become friends with Brian and his fantastic wife Stacie. I'm completely comfortable in a setting with strangers, having taken Sienna to the playground on solo action.
I won't lie about this. No parent REALLY wants to be the parent with screaming child who can't be consoled. At these type of events when Sienna heads toward meltdown Danielle holds her until she calms down. Usually there are lots of strangers in close proximity.
You know, like a birthday party.
A birthday party with lots and lots of screaming children where daycare has pointedly told Danielle and myself, "Sienna plays by herself and doesn't always interact with the other children." This is not a surprise given that Sienna's favorite expression is to stone-facedly check out what has happening around her, weigh her options, and generally do what she wants.
I had the option of staying home with Danielle. Surely parents would understand. Especially given that the party was scheduled for the middle of Sienna's nap and Sienna had already spent Sunday sleeping extra long for her first nap.
Maybe she just knew she needed the energy. I figured the entire event would be Sienna's continuation of being around strangers and also a little Daddy solo action. After all, the summer is almost here and outdoors soloing will be the norm pretty soon.
Sienna and I took the 40 minute subway ride - Sunday hours - into the city. At the front desk of the Appleseed Children's Center* the desk person responded to my inquiry about the party location with, "Oh, you won't be able to miss the party."
She was right.
There must have been 20-25 kids and 40 or so adults in the playspace. Luckily it was large enough to accompany everyone easily. As Logan is two years old Sienna was the defacto youngest person by...oh...9 months or so.
20 kids running around throwing balls at each other, running around with mini-golf-clubs and the parents half-a-step behind the little speedsters. I put Sienna down on one of the giant mats, whispering sweet tidings in her ear. She reached for a yellow ball, which I gave her, and she sat and watched the proceedings for 15 solid minutes.
Like I said, Sienna likes to check out the action.
I was okay with her night crawling all over the place - though she was eyeing a bunch of balls that were right in the middle of a basketball game. I'm not sure the kids would have stopped playing and I'm positive that the parents wouldn't be able to catch the kids in the time.
A while later we moved into another room where the two year olds colored around a giant table. Not issue for Sienna as she enjoyed the rug, drank some of her milk and then decided the most interesting item in the universe was the top of her milk bottle.
Some kids and parents would stop by and say hello at the lightning speed that children judge all objects: interesting or not. I was pleased when Sienna engaged in a minor game of catch with a two year old. A set of twin babies - age six months - also appeared thus negating Sienna's existing as the youngest.
Sienna even danced a bit, enjoyed nibbling on some pizza and did her annihilation of a piece of cake that resembles a snake unhinging its jaw to eat its prey**
Overall is was a great experience. Sienna didn't cry when I changed her before she left, she had some fun, and she loves being on the subway. Danielle woke up just before we arrived home and Sienna proceeded to tear around the apartment playing with her toys.
Solo parenting adventure = done.
Wayne
* That may not have been the name. I don't feel like looking it up.
** I am judging all parents on how they react to my snake/jaw comment. Horrified look = no fun. Laugh = fun.
Naturally Danielle got sick this past weekend when Logan's party was planned. I've certainly become friends with Brian and his fantastic wife Stacie. I'm completely comfortable in a setting with strangers, having taken Sienna to the playground on solo action.
I won't lie about this. No parent REALLY wants to be the parent with screaming child who can't be consoled. At these type of events when Sienna heads toward meltdown Danielle holds her until she calms down. Usually there are lots of strangers in close proximity.
You know, like a birthday party.
A birthday party with lots and lots of screaming children where daycare has pointedly told Danielle and myself, "Sienna plays by herself and doesn't always interact with the other children." This is not a surprise given that Sienna's favorite expression is to stone-facedly check out what has happening around her, weigh her options, and generally do what she wants.
I had the option of staying home with Danielle. Surely parents would understand. Especially given that the party was scheduled for the middle of Sienna's nap and Sienna had already spent Sunday sleeping extra long for her first nap.
Maybe she just knew she needed the energy. I figured the entire event would be Sienna's continuation of being around strangers and also a little Daddy solo action. After all, the summer is almost here and outdoors soloing will be the norm pretty soon.
Sienna and I took the 40 minute subway ride - Sunday hours - into the city. At the front desk of the Appleseed Children's Center* the desk person responded to my inquiry about the party location with, "Oh, you won't be able to miss the party."
She was right.
There must have been 20-25 kids and 40 or so adults in the playspace. Luckily it was large enough to accompany everyone easily. As Logan is two years old Sienna was the defacto youngest person by...oh...9 months or so.
20 kids running around throwing balls at each other, running around with mini-golf-clubs and the parents half-a-step behind the little speedsters. I put Sienna down on one of the giant mats, whispering sweet tidings in her ear. She reached for a yellow ball, which I gave her, and she sat and watched the proceedings for 15 solid minutes.
Like I said, Sienna likes to check out the action.
I was okay with her night crawling all over the place - though she was eyeing a bunch of balls that were right in the middle of a basketball game. I'm not sure the kids would have stopped playing and I'm positive that the parents wouldn't be able to catch the kids in the time.
A while later we moved into another room where the two year olds colored around a giant table. Not issue for Sienna as she enjoyed the rug, drank some of her milk and then decided the most interesting item in the universe was the top of her milk bottle.
Some kids and parents would stop by and say hello at the lightning speed that children judge all objects: interesting or not. I was pleased when Sienna engaged in a minor game of catch with a two year old. A set of twin babies - age six months - also appeared thus negating Sienna's existing as the youngest.
Sienna even danced a bit, enjoyed nibbling on some pizza and did her annihilation of a piece of cake that resembles a snake unhinging its jaw to eat its prey**
Overall is was a great experience. Sienna didn't cry when I changed her before she left, she had some fun, and she loves being on the subway. Danielle woke up just before we arrived home and Sienna proceeded to tear around the apartment playing with her toys.
Solo parenting adventure = done.
Wayne
* That may not have been the name. I don't feel like looking it up.
** I am judging all parents on how they react to my snake/jaw comment. Horrified look = no fun. Laugh = fun.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Sienna and her performance art
Sienna has been channelling her inner-thespian the last few weeks. This morning she raised her craft to new heights.
Her favorite is to sit down, raise her right arm and point skyward, and then fall over sideways. With her arm still raised over her head she rolls onto her back and starts crying.
If you stand over her Sienna then rolls from side-to-side whole tears well up. Danielle and I walk away, knowing she just wants attention. Usually after one minute she will come crawling after us.
This morning she was on the ground and when I went to walk away she rolled onto her stomach, lunged forward and wrapped herself around my foot.
Her hands have a surprisingly strong grip. I tried to gently pull away, though she looked up at me with accusing baby eyes and let out a plaintif wail.
That is right. Sienna captured her audience.
Wayne
Her favorite is to sit down, raise her right arm and point skyward, and then fall over sideways. With her arm still raised over her head she rolls onto her back and starts crying.
If you stand over her Sienna then rolls from side-to-side whole tears well up. Danielle and I walk away, knowing she just wants attention. Usually after one minute she will come crawling after us.
This morning she was on the ground and when I went to walk away she rolled onto her stomach, lunged forward and wrapped herself around my foot.
Her hands have a surprisingly strong grip. I tried to gently pull away, though she looked up at me with accusing baby eyes and let out a plaintif wail.
That is right. Sienna captured her audience.
Wayne
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Teething
Now that I have the blogger app on my iPhone expect quite a few more "Sienna just did x posts."
Since someone somewhere is storing this data then I fully expect her to someday walk up to me with an evil glare followed by a disertation on my poor grammar structure.
At which moment I shall remind her of events like last night. As she happily crawls about with a belly full of blueberry pancakes she has no recollection of her adventures on teething.
Her power screaming - something she never does - until I came and got her. Oragel does not always fix everything, there are times Mommy's shoulder is the only remedy.
For the first time ever Sienna conked out in bed with us. Scudder was the most effected as I kept tossing him off the bed onto the floor. Actually Mommy too since it was her shoulder in use. Daddy fell back asleep, snoring away.
Now how will I use this blog entry to defend myself? Easy enough. Mommy is tired this morning and we are coffeeless. This may be my last blog entry Sienna!
See. Teething. You never know the results.
Wayne
Since someone somewhere is storing this data then I fully expect her to someday walk up to me with an evil glare followed by a disertation on my poor grammar structure.
At which moment I shall remind her of events like last night. As she happily crawls about with a belly full of blueberry pancakes she has no recollection of her adventures on teething.
Her power screaming - something she never does - until I came and got her. Oragel does not always fix everything, there are times Mommy's shoulder is the only remedy.
For the first time ever Sienna conked out in bed with us. Scudder was the most effected as I kept tossing him off the bed onto the floor. Actually Mommy too since it was her shoulder in use. Daddy fell back asleep, snoring away.
Now how will I use this blog entry to defend myself? Easy enough. Mommy is tired this morning and we are coffeeless. This may be my last blog entry Sienna!
See. Teething. You never know the results.
Wayne
Friday, March 9, 2012
In bed early & my father lies
My father used to sleep - as near as I could tell - about 4 to 5 hours a night. I asked him about it once to which he replied, "As you get older you'll need less sleep."
Certainly a cool thought. In college I didn't sleep much, post-college seemingly even less, I hit 30 needing even less sleep, as I sprinted toward 40 I...holy sweet mother of Jesus I need to sleep. It came out of nowhere. I just figured I was blessed with decent genetics and was one of those people who loves life so much he couldn't get enough of it.
Hah!
Yeah, right. Youthful exuberance mixed together with youthful ignorance.
If I don't get seven hours then I zombie-fy after about two days. I could say this has something to do with sleep deprivation from Sienna's early days except I spent fou--five--years at college doing this.
I followed up with father. He laughed at me. Love when my father laughs at me.
"You'll get sleep when she turns 18 and by then you'll be used to non-sleep. I didn't want to scare you off children by telling you that."
Can't wait to find out what else the man was less than truthful about.
Now I'm trying to get to bed early - hello early-bird specials! - try to grab sleep.
Wayne
Certainly a cool thought. In college I didn't sleep much, post-college seemingly even less, I hit 30 needing even less sleep, as I sprinted toward 40 I...holy sweet mother of Jesus I need to sleep. It came out of nowhere. I just figured I was blessed with decent genetics and was one of those people who loves life so much he couldn't get enough of it.
Hah!
Yeah, right. Youthful exuberance mixed together with youthful ignorance.
If I don't get seven hours then I zombie-fy after about two days. I could say this has something to do with sleep deprivation from Sienna's early days except I spent fou--five--years at college doing this.
I followed up with father. He laughed at me. Love when my father laughs at me.
"You'll get sleep when she turns 18 and by then you'll be used to non-sleep. I didn't want to scare you off children by telling you that."
Can't wait to find out what else the man was less than truthful about.
Now I'm trying to get to bed early - hello early-bird specials! - try to grab sleep.
Wayne
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Tales of the Daughter: Sienna Goes Swimming
Sienna was grinning at me. The complete grin of a child having a fantastic time with complete commitment to being in the moment as, for her, Life doesn't get any better than this!
I felt really really bad when I dunked her under the water.
I blame my Mother really; she didn't now how to swim so I found no desire to learn.* I could dog paddle - though a dog would take umbrage at my flailing windmilling arms being compared to his fluid quad-pedal projection system.
For Sienna this would be the first time she would suffer the sins of her father. That is right, she would be introduced to something WAY before I was introduced to it. Hopefully she would learn to love it, or like it, or at least have a more positive reaction to it than I did.
I've known for years that babies love water. I remember some sort of PBS show where they showed six month old babies swimming through under water hoops. Among many children skills is a natural inclination to water and climbing. Or at least that is what TV has taught me.
Near our Virginia timeshare there is an Indoor Waterpark. The perfect place to introduce Sienna to swimming. A dual fact of (a) it's the South so you can do pretty much anything and (b) no one there knows us.
I didn't count on Danielle not knowing that children and swimming goes hand-in-hand. I had to show her on "reputable mothering website" where swimming with a less than one-year-old is okay. Let me interupt the thought process on "swimming" it is facing your child, sticking hands under the arm pits and towing the little one backward. At least that it the first lesson. I showed Danielle how to do it - it didn't take much as the physics is, Don't let go!
Within a short period Sienna (and her parents really) had mastered lesson one. Sienna giggled madly while scrunching up her face when she gulped in a mouthful of water. Danielle LOVES lesson one. Sienna LOVES lesson one. Daddy LOVES lesson one.
Lesson two. The child goes underwater.
There is a simple theory with human beings and going underwater. You naturally close your mouth and eyes when it happens. When you do this with a child there is the natural RESULT of said going underwater: screaming.
At least potentially and this is also where we began our story.
Want to eliminate a smiling face? Dunk the child for the first time. Sienna did close her mouth and eyes immediately and no I did not hold my child underwater it was a dunk. Two seconds.
Upon resurfacing her face turned to a mask of outrage. A bright red scrunchball of discontent that conveyed the ultimate betrayal in fatherhood and perhaps the universe. WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!
At least that it what I imagined Sienna was thinking. I didn't leave her time to cry in my arms, I handed her to Danielle. Sienna let out a plaintive yelp, a few tears**, jammed her thumb into, and gave me the stink-eye of betrayal.
You know what though? I'd do it again. Or at least have Danielle dunk her the first time. Sienna loves the water, evening being dunked a couple of more times. We'll figure out how to keep her in some sort of pool as it was a fun family event.
Wayne
* The fact that my mother had grown up in the city where there weren't exactly pools did not come into my thinking process.
** Sienna has crocodile tears. It isn't fair.
I felt really really bad when I dunked her under the water.
I blame my Mother really; she didn't now how to swim so I found no desire to learn.* I could dog paddle - though a dog would take umbrage at my flailing windmilling arms being compared to his fluid quad-pedal projection system.
For Sienna this would be the first time she would suffer the sins of her father. That is right, she would be introduced to something WAY before I was introduced to it. Hopefully she would learn to love it, or like it, or at least have a more positive reaction to it than I did.
I've known for years that babies love water. I remember some sort of PBS show where they showed six month old babies swimming through under water hoops. Among many children skills is a natural inclination to water and climbing. Or at least that is what TV has taught me.
Near our Virginia timeshare there is an Indoor Waterpark. The perfect place to introduce Sienna to swimming. A dual fact of (a) it's the South so you can do pretty much anything and (b) no one there knows us.
I didn't count on Danielle not knowing that children and swimming goes hand-in-hand. I had to show her on "reputable mothering website" where swimming with a less than one-year-old is okay. Let me interupt the thought process on "swimming" it is facing your child, sticking hands under the arm pits and towing the little one backward. At least that it the first lesson. I showed Danielle how to do it - it didn't take much as the physics is, Don't let go!
Within a short period Sienna (and her parents really) had mastered lesson one. Sienna giggled madly while scrunching up her face when she gulped in a mouthful of water. Danielle LOVES lesson one. Sienna LOVES lesson one. Daddy LOVES lesson one.
Lesson two. The child goes underwater.
There is a simple theory with human beings and going underwater. You naturally close your mouth and eyes when it happens. When you do this with a child there is the natural RESULT of said going underwater: screaming.
At least potentially and this is also where we began our story.
Want to eliminate a smiling face? Dunk the child for the first time. Sienna did close her mouth and eyes immediately and no I did not hold my child underwater it was a dunk. Two seconds.
Upon resurfacing her face turned to a mask of outrage. A bright red scrunchball of discontent that conveyed the ultimate betrayal in fatherhood and perhaps the universe. WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!
At least that it what I imagined Sienna was thinking. I didn't leave her time to cry in my arms, I handed her to Danielle. Sienna let out a plaintive yelp, a few tears**, jammed her thumb into, and gave me the stink-eye of betrayal.
You know what though? I'd do it again. Or at least have Danielle dunk her the first time. Sienna loves the water, evening being dunked a couple of more times. We'll figure out how to keep her in some sort of pool as it was a fun family event.
Wayne
* The fact that my mother had grown up in the city where there weren't exactly pools did not come into my thinking process.
** Sienna has crocodile tears. It isn't fair.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Tales of the Daughter: Sienna pushes boundaries
Sienna is getting smarter every day. People have warned me how little kids get smart quickly, then push boundaries, then manipulate.
My glorious daughter of 11 months has shown herself to be quite independent. Though I'm sure that is what every parent tells him or her self. Sienna enjoys being picked up - really what child doesn't? - communicating by crawling over, sitting down in front of you and waving her arms like she is doing some sort of backstroke.
Since Danielle and I think this is the cutest thing ever Sienna gets picked up. We try to moderate it so it doesn't happen instantly, yet it happens pretty quickly.
This AM was a little hectic since Sienna had thrown up last night. After a morning bath she was sitting on the living room floor waving her arms to be picked up. No could do.
About 20 seconds later I heard a loud thumb followed by an angry scream. Sienna had thrown herself backward onto the back of her head! Now, she wasn't actually hurt - though she was certainly angry.
Danielle went over, stared down at her, then we looked at each other questioningly. We held out for a good minute before Danielle picked her up.
Still, Sienna is getting smarter every day. Pushing the boundaries. Finding Mommy & Daddy's limits. Smart kid though - faking an injury at such a young age. I really respect that.
Wayne
My glorious daughter of 11 months has shown herself to be quite independent. Though I'm sure that is what every parent tells him or her self. Sienna enjoys being picked up - really what child doesn't? - communicating by crawling over, sitting down in front of you and waving her arms like she is doing some sort of backstroke.
Since Danielle and I think this is the cutest thing ever Sienna gets picked up. We try to moderate it so it doesn't happen instantly, yet it happens pretty quickly.
This AM was a little hectic since Sienna had thrown up last night. After a morning bath she was sitting on the living room floor waving her arms to be picked up. No could do.
About 20 seconds later I heard a loud thumb followed by an angry scream. Sienna had thrown herself backward onto the back of her head! Now, she wasn't actually hurt - though she was certainly angry.
Danielle went over, stared down at her, then we looked at each other questioningly. We held out for a good minute before Danielle picked her up.
Still, Sienna is getting smarter every day. Pushing the boundaries. Finding Mommy & Daddy's limits. Smart kid though - faking an injury at such a young age. I really respect that.
Wayne
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Sienna, object permanence & (apparently) a good memory
Once upon a time I asked my father a question.
When did he and my Mother went on vacation without my brother and me? He told me, "We went to Spain and it was fantastic. Your mother danced on tables, we drank wine, she sent you letters every day. We were gone two weeks. It was one of the best vacations we ever had."
After confirming that he said, "your mother danced on tables" I asked the natural follow up question, "when was the second time you went without us?"
"We didn't."
"Why not? Could you guys not afford it?"
"No, because of YOU," he actually pointed at me when he said it. "We left you with her friend. When we came home YOU" - he pointed again - "hid behind he friend's leg, burst into tears, and refused to go near your mother because you didn't recognize you."
My father gave me the fiercest dirty look at this point, got up from the table and opened himself a bottle of wine.
Fast forward to last night. I have been encouraging Danielle to spend more time with her friends during the week. She needs some solo time out, I have certainly watched Sienna more than enough and my child LOVES her alone time with Daddy. I have solo bathed her a few times and it is bath night. No big deal.
Well that was LAST MONTH she loved her alone time with Daddy. At 6:40 last night Sienna refused her dinner, looked at the door, and began a soulful wail. 6:40 is around the time Mommy comes home every night. Usually during the middle of Sienna's dinner Mommy joins in the for the second half the meal and the true start to the bed time ritual.
6:41 Sienna refused anymore food. She kept crying.
I picked her up. I am a MASTER at getting my child to stop crying. A MASTER.
6:44. Sienna is still crying. I offer her yogurt. She can't resist yogurt. Ever. It, along with smoked gouda and puffs is a top three food.
6:44:20 Sienna launches a spoonful of yogurt across the room. Scudder is thrilled by this as he almost got himself some free yogurt.
6:46 I'm holding her again me, which soothes her just enough where she puts her thumb in her mouth to stop her tears. Unfortunately her nose is now backed up from crying.
6:47 Sienna is still crying. Even her favorite song A-B-C has no effect. Putting her on the floor to crawl around is useless.
6:48 I change her. She usually cries if she is hungry, wet, or tired. She also loves her changing table. Not tonight. Somehow I squeeze her into her pajamas.
6:50 Sienna has just cried herself out of a bath. Well, I really decided that five minutes ago except I was hoping she would calm down.
6:51 I clean her nose. I'm pretty sure the neighbors can hear her cries, releasing a noise that even Scudder has an expression of "what was that?"
6:52 I take her to her bedroom along with a bottle. She has three sips - including a dirty look between each sip - before testing her arm strength.
6:53 I offer up her favorite book So Big. Even the awesome power of Elmo is useless at this point. She grabs the book long enough to deposit on the floor.
6:54 I put her down to bed. I sing her a lullaby. For the last two months she has pulled herself to a sitting position during the lullaby. Instead she jams her thumb into her mouth - whimpers, takes out the thumb, bellows, then puts in the other thumb. She repeats this process.
6:55 I am in the kitchen and I can clearly here her crying. I put on the timer for 15 minutes. If she is still crying at that time I am going back in.
6:59 She has cried herself to sleep.
Some place my father is laughing. I have just experienced my child taking recognition of another over a parent. Well, at least it was a missing Danielle she cried about. Unfortunately I was the one soothing her.
As a co-worker put it today. "Well, Sienna will be fine. The psychological damage to you will be on going."
I may encourage Danielle to go out with friends next week. Maybe.
Wayne
When did he and my Mother went on vacation without my brother and me? He told me, "We went to Spain and it was fantastic. Your mother danced on tables, we drank wine, she sent you letters every day. We were gone two weeks. It was one of the best vacations we ever had."
After confirming that he said, "your mother danced on tables" I asked the natural follow up question, "when was the second time you went without us?"
"We didn't."
"Why not? Could you guys not afford it?"
"No, because of YOU," he actually pointed at me when he said it. "We left you with her friend. When we came home YOU" - he pointed again - "hid behind he friend's leg, burst into tears, and refused to go near your mother because you didn't recognize you."
My father gave me the fiercest dirty look at this point, got up from the table and opened himself a bottle of wine.
Fast forward to last night. I have been encouraging Danielle to spend more time with her friends during the week. She needs some solo time out, I have certainly watched Sienna more than enough and my child LOVES her alone time with Daddy. I have solo bathed her a few times and it is bath night. No big deal.
Well that was LAST MONTH she loved her alone time with Daddy. At 6:40 last night Sienna refused her dinner, looked at the door, and began a soulful wail. 6:40 is around the time Mommy comes home every night. Usually during the middle of Sienna's dinner Mommy joins in the for the second half the meal and the true start to the bed time ritual.
6:41 Sienna refused anymore food. She kept crying.
I picked her up. I am a MASTER at getting my child to stop crying. A MASTER.
6:44. Sienna is still crying. I offer her yogurt. She can't resist yogurt. Ever. It, along with smoked gouda and puffs is a top three food.
6:44:20 Sienna launches a spoonful of yogurt across the room. Scudder is thrilled by this as he almost got himself some free yogurt.
6:46 I'm holding her again me, which soothes her just enough where she puts her thumb in her mouth to stop her tears. Unfortunately her nose is now backed up from crying.
6:47 Sienna is still crying. Even her favorite song A-B-C has no effect. Putting her on the floor to crawl around is useless.
6:48 I change her. She usually cries if she is hungry, wet, or tired. She also loves her changing table. Not tonight. Somehow I squeeze her into her pajamas.
6:50 Sienna has just cried herself out of a bath. Well, I really decided that five minutes ago except I was hoping she would calm down.
6:51 I clean her nose. I'm pretty sure the neighbors can hear her cries, releasing a noise that even Scudder has an expression of "what was that?"
6:52 I take her to her bedroom along with a bottle. She has three sips - including a dirty look between each sip - before testing her arm strength.
6:53 I offer up her favorite book So Big. Even the awesome power of Elmo is useless at this point. She grabs the book long enough to deposit on the floor.
6:54 I put her down to bed. I sing her a lullaby. For the last two months she has pulled herself to a sitting position during the lullaby. Instead she jams her thumb into her mouth - whimpers, takes out the thumb, bellows, then puts in the other thumb. She repeats this process.
6:55 I am in the kitchen and I can clearly here her crying. I put on the timer for 15 minutes. If she is still crying at that time I am going back in.
6:59 She has cried herself to sleep.
Some place my father is laughing. I have just experienced my child taking recognition of another over a parent. Well, at least it was a missing Danielle she cried about. Unfortunately I was the one soothing her.
As a co-worker put it today. "Well, Sienna will be fine. The psychological damage to you will be on going."
I may encourage Danielle to go out with friends next week. Maybe.
Wayne
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Six Times Daddy Got Hurt, Maimed and Nearly Killed
"Daddy you have brain damage!" Sienna is going to utter those words, or some variant there within. She will probably tell me I don't recall being a teenager, never had any fun, and never did anything dangerous.
I pre-present my daughter with a list of Six Times Daddy Got Hurt, Maimed and Nearly Killed. Some were much closer than others, some I was okay by dumb luck and some were keeping a cool head.
Remarkably enough these are the times I remember off the top of my head and the list used to be ten. Only I can't remember four of them right now.
Guatemala
A case of mistaken identity led to a member of the Guatemalan military pointing his handgun at me. Judging by the adornment of his uniform I am pretty positive that he would have gotten off for shooting me. I am also glad I was carrying a copy of my U.S. passport with me at the time.
Sliding Down a Volcano
I tore my labrum, an injury so severe I later required surgery. Naturally I did not want surgery and as Danielle and I headed to Chile for an adventure vacation I received a cortisone shot so I could have a normal time. Part of the trip was climbing a snow and ice covered volcano. The only way down the volcano was to slide down an ice slide and use an ice-pick to stop yourself. This type of climb is dangerous enough that you are required to wear a helmet.
On the way down my shoulder gave out and I spun out of control since I couldn't stop by myself. What we had been told was to throw the ice pick if you slide out of control as you are likely to impale yourself. I threw the ice pick to the side and flipped over as I continued to slide. I then flipped again and found myself going head first and face first down the icy volcano. The cracking noise of ice meeting helmet echoed in my ears and my neck was being compressed on each hit.
I kept my head enough to flip back around and get my feet in front of me. I actually gained enough control that I stabilized. Still out of control I opened my legs enough to let snow in - hopefully creating friction to slow myself.
I distinctly remember that thought. The snow between my legs caused me to shoot off the ice slide and onto a more icy snowy area. I really have no idea how I was going to stopped right until my feet met some frozen volcanic ash.
My legs folded as the momentum was absorbed and for a moment my momentum caused me to stand up. For only a second and then I fell onto my back. I lay on my back, eyes tightly shut, unmoving as I tested various joins to see everything was still intact.
Amazingly enough everything was perfectly fine. Except I opened my eyes and couldn't see a damn thing. During my face plant my snow goggles had filled with snow. I sat up, took off the goggles and gave them a shake - they were cracked. I found myself in a field of frozen volcanic ash and took off my helmet.
Remarkably enough the helmet was scratched up, missing some point, yet perfectly in place. I looked down at my feet resenting again a large piece of ash. Really a small boulder. It was the perfect size for me to hit with my feet and stop me.
Now why doesn't Mommy ever tell this story. She has her own ski accident story that caused her to have shellshock and not being able to go up the volcano. Which is good since she might have had a heart attack watching me tumble and she was needed to take care of me later that night when my body temperature shot off the charts.
Hello, Mr. Tree
On a wet road in Framingham my car hydroplaned off a back road. I braced myself against the steering wheel, hit with enough impact that I broke the wheel, and out of the corner of my eye watched my friend Rob's head meet the windshield and create a wonderful spiderweb pattern as blood flowed. When the Police showed up they casually mentioned I couldn't have been speeding because it I was we'd both be dead.
Rafting
When I was nineteen years old I went whitewater rafting with Tio Brian and some of his college friends. Our raft flipped as we went over a small waterfalls. I actually got caught in the backwash of the small waterfall. I wasn't caught for more than a few seconds except I'm not Aquaman so I found the lack of breathing rather unpleasant.
The life jacket had enough floatation strength that it pulled me out of the backwash as I cycled through. Which is good since I'm not sure I could have executed the How-To-Escape-a-Waterfall-Backwash move (wait until the cycle pulls you to the bottom, plant your foot and push with all your might; in case you ever need it).
A Boat Trailer Falls On Me
As a six year old I loved hanging out near Nono while he worked. He was painting his 22 foot sailboat called The Wench while it was on its trailer. The trailer was balancing against a cinder block.
He must have pushed where he should have pulled because the boat pitched forward and OFF the cinder block. A piece of jagged metal drove into my leg...mostly since I was sitting under part of the trailer.
I remember Nono and Grandma arguing about whose turn it was to take me to the emergency room. This conversation took place as I watched a white towel wrapped around my cut slowly turn red. It only took six stitches to close the wound - one for each year.
That is Going to Leave a Scar
I was helping Tio Brian and Tia Sole move. It was a hot day and as I packed the moving truck I was standing on top of some packed boxes that turned out to be a really bad place to stand. I became dizzy, feel off, and a piece of metal sticking up from a desk sliced into my leg.
I grabbed my leg with my gloved hand, immediately flexed my toes to see if I had sliced a tendon (always test body parts before moving) and thankfully my toes reacted, I then limped to the back of the truck as I refused to look at the leg (never look at the cut as you could pass out).
"Dad!" I yelled. I will take a moment to say that whenever you are injured ALWAYS yell for the person with the most experience. This is usually the oldest person. Chances are they have seen something just as bad and will not panic.
Somehow Nono appeared, quite alarmed at the sound of my voice. "I cut myself," I said as I limped to the edge of the moving truck.
The story is actually funny as if you ask Tia Sole about the story she'll tell you about Tio Brian running around in circles on the lawn when he saw what happened and how two of her best towels were ruined.
The rest of the story explains a lot of how Nono raised his boys. Or explains something about Nono in general and where your sense of humor has its genesis.
Nono, Brian and I piled into the front of the Voyager van with Brian driving, me in passenger seat and Nono sitting almost on top of me while he helped apply pressure. Tio Brian started us toward the hospital and we seemed to hit every single bump. When we would hit a bump Nono would apply more pressure, thereby causing me the only actual pain at that time.
"Ow!" I said at about the fifth bump.
"It's going to hurt Wayne, that is a good sign." Nono's comment is actually true - it is when you're hurt and everything goes numb that you worry.
"Dad, I can take the pain of the cut it's your friggin weight that's killing me. You need to lose a few pounds," I said.
Nono burst out laughing and Tio Brian smiled.
We got to the hospital, I was checked in at the same time that someone who had severed his finger tip came in. When the hospital workers' saw I wasn't going to bleed to death they propped me up - bare ass except for the hospital gown - over a bedpan type device while they went to sew the guys finger on.
Since I wasn't in actual pain I figured the cut wasn't that bad. Not a good idea. I could easily see the muscle of my leg - it looked exactly like a filleted fish and THAT was the point where my face became ashen. Which Nono noticed.
"Don't look, you moron," he said. I then noticed my blood all over his hands, which he also looked down at, "I'm never going to be able to go the butcher again," he added.
Tio Brian joined us and saw that I'd live Nono looked at him and said, "Well, Wayne isn't going anywhere. I guess we should go back and finish packing you up."
Then yes, Nono and Tio Brian left me alone in the hospital bare ass naked with my rear in the air.
In Conclusion
So when I give you advice of carry a copy of your passport, don't speed on wet rules, don't play under boat trailers, don't help family members move, be careful sliding down volcanoes and white water rafting you know why. I promise I won't leave you in the hospital though - even if I am helping someone move.
Wayne
I pre-present my daughter with a list of Six Times Daddy Got Hurt, Maimed and Nearly Killed. Some were much closer than others, some I was okay by dumb luck and some were keeping a cool head.
Remarkably enough these are the times I remember off the top of my head and the list used to be ten. Only I can't remember four of them right now.
Guatemala
A case of mistaken identity led to a member of the Guatemalan military pointing his handgun at me. Judging by the adornment of his uniform I am pretty positive that he would have gotten off for shooting me. I am also glad I was carrying a copy of my U.S. passport with me at the time.
Sliding Down a Volcano
I tore my labrum, an injury so severe I later required surgery. Naturally I did not want surgery and as Danielle and I headed to Chile for an adventure vacation I received a cortisone shot so I could have a normal time. Part of the trip was climbing a snow and ice covered volcano. The only way down the volcano was to slide down an ice slide and use an ice-pick to stop yourself. This type of climb is dangerous enough that you are required to wear a helmet.
On the way down my shoulder gave out and I spun out of control since I couldn't stop by myself. What we had been told was to throw the ice pick if you slide out of control as you are likely to impale yourself. I threw the ice pick to the side and flipped over as I continued to slide. I then flipped again and found myself going head first and face first down the icy volcano. The cracking noise of ice meeting helmet echoed in my ears and my neck was being compressed on each hit.
I kept my head enough to flip back around and get my feet in front of me. I actually gained enough control that I stabilized. Still out of control I opened my legs enough to let snow in - hopefully creating friction to slow myself.
I distinctly remember that thought. The snow between my legs caused me to shoot off the ice slide and onto a more icy snowy area. I really have no idea how I was going to stopped right until my feet met some frozen volcanic ash.
My legs folded as the momentum was absorbed and for a moment my momentum caused me to stand up. For only a second and then I fell onto my back. I lay on my back, eyes tightly shut, unmoving as I tested various joins to see everything was still intact.
Amazingly enough everything was perfectly fine. Except I opened my eyes and couldn't see a damn thing. During my face plant my snow goggles had filled with snow. I sat up, took off the goggles and gave them a shake - they were cracked. I found myself in a field of frozen volcanic ash and took off my helmet.
Remarkably enough the helmet was scratched up, missing some point, yet perfectly in place. I looked down at my feet resenting again a large piece of ash. Really a small boulder. It was the perfect size for me to hit with my feet and stop me.
Now why doesn't Mommy ever tell this story. She has her own ski accident story that caused her to have shellshock and not being able to go up the volcano. Which is good since she might have had a heart attack watching me tumble and she was needed to take care of me later that night when my body temperature shot off the charts.
Hello, Mr. Tree
On a wet road in Framingham my car hydroplaned off a back road. I braced myself against the steering wheel, hit with enough impact that I broke the wheel, and out of the corner of my eye watched my friend Rob's head meet the windshield and create a wonderful spiderweb pattern as blood flowed. When the Police showed up they casually mentioned I couldn't have been speeding because it I was we'd both be dead.
Rafting
When I was nineteen years old I went whitewater rafting with Tio Brian and some of his college friends. Our raft flipped as we went over a small waterfalls. I actually got caught in the backwash of the small waterfall. I wasn't caught for more than a few seconds except I'm not Aquaman so I found the lack of breathing rather unpleasant.
The life jacket had enough floatation strength that it pulled me out of the backwash as I cycled through. Which is good since I'm not sure I could have executed the How-To-Escape-a-Waterfall-Backwash move (wait until the cycle pulls you to the bottom, plant your foot and push with all your might; in case you ever need it).
A Boat Trailer Falls On Me
As a six year old I loved hanging out near Nono while he worked. He was painting his 22 foot sailboat called The Wench while it was on its trailer. The trailer was balancing against a cinder block.
He must have pushed where he should have pulled because the boat pitched forward and OFF the cinder block. A piece of jagged metal drove into my leg...mostly since I was sitting under part of the trailer.
I remember Nono and Grandma arguing about whose turn it was to take me to the emergency room. This conversation took place as I watched a white towel wrapped around my cut slowly turn red. It only took six stitches to close the wound - one for each year.
That is Going to Leave a Scar
I was helping Tio Brian and Tia Sole move. It was a hot day and as I packed the moving truck I was standing on top of some packed boxes that turned out to be a really bad place to stand. I became dizzy, feel off, and a piece of metal sticking up from a desk sliced into my leg.
I grabbed my leg with my gloved hand, immediately flexed my toes to see if I had sliced a tendon (always test body parts before moving) and thankfully my toes reacted, I then limped to the back of the truck as I refused to look at the leg (never look at the cut as you could pass out).
"Dad!" I yelled. I will take a moment to say that whenever you are injured ALWAYS yell for the person with the most experience. This is usually the oldest person. Chances are they have seen something just as bad and will not panic.
Somehow Nono appeared, quite alarmed at the sound of my voice. "I cut myself," I said as I limped to the edge of the moving truck.
The story is actually funny as if you ask Tia Sole about the story she'll tell you about Tio Brian running around in circles on the lawn when he saw what happened and how two of her best towels were ruined.
The rest of the story explains a lot of how Nono raised his boys. Or explains something about Nono in general and where your sense of humor has its genesis.
Nono, Brian and I piled into the front of the Voyager van with Brian driving, me in passenger seat and Nono sitting almost on top of me while he helped apply pressure. Tio Brian started us toward the hospital and we seemed to hit every single bump. When we would hit a bump Nono would apply more pressure, thereby causing me the only actual pain at that time.
"Ow!" I said at about the fifth bump.
"It's going to hurt Wayne, that is a good sign." Nono's comment is actually true - it is when you're hurt and everything goes numb that you worry.
"Dad, I can take the pain of the cut it's your friggin weight that's killing me. You need to lose a few pounds," I said.
Nono burst out laughing and Tio Brian smiled.
We got to the hospital, I was checked in at the same time that someone who had severed his finger tip came in. When the hospital workers' saw I wasn't going to bleed to death they propped me up - bare ass except for the hospital gown - over a bedpan type device while they went to sew the guys finger on.
Since I wasn't in actual pain I figured the cut wasn't that bad. Not a good idea. I could easily see the muscle of my leg - it looked exactly like a filleted fish and THAT was the point where my face became ashen. Which Nono noticed.
"Don't look, you moron," he said. I then noticed my blood all over his hands, which he also looked down at, "I'm never going to be able to go the butcher again," he added.
Tio Brian joined us and saw that I'd live Nono looked at him and said, "Well, Wayne isn't going anywhere. I guess we should go back and finish packing you up."
Then yes, Nono and Tio Brian left me alone in the hospital bare ass naked with my rear in the air.
In Conclusion
So when I give you advice of carry a copy of your passport, don't speed on wet rules, don't play under boat trailers, don't help family members move, be careful sliding down volcanoes and white water rafting you know why. I promise I won't leave you in the hospital though - even if I am helping someone move.
Wayne
Monday, November 14, 2011
Bottle drama at 4:56 AM
The clock read a very bleary 4:56 AM. Bleary since my eyes can barely focus on anything when I wake up, never mind at 4:56 AM in the morning.
Sienna had been crying for a good half an hour.*
Somewhere along the line Sienna started refusing to drink from the bottle. Refusing may be too strong a word - after all she only cries, refuses to hold the bottle, and general creates what day care refers to as "drama." Actually refusing is exactly the right word. She isn't drinking as milk as before. Day care is worried a tiny bit and so are we.
Danielle and I are trying to do our part by giving me the 5:30 AM feeding via the bottle. Sienna can't tell time though and believes that 4:56 AM is an appropriate time.
Two minutes of warming up the water. Putting her bottle in it. Then getting Sienna from her crib.
She is in crawl position and heads right toward the sound of the door opening when I enter the room. She lifts her head up and lets out a wail. Even in the semi-darkness I can see the reflection off her tear soaked face.
I pick her up and after a few steps she stops crying - though she looks dazed. Crying off and on forty five minutes will do that to you. I am doing my best not to trip as I walk down the hallway. Every imperfection of the wood suddenly seems like a tripping hazard as I make my way to the kitchen.
Sienna does NOT like being loaded and seatbelted into her boppy this morning and starts crying again. She is used to Mommy's breast when we are in the house and she knows Mommy is SOMEWHERE around here. She can sense her.
Baby Spider-sense.
I get the bottle, kneel down next to her, and the two tiny hands immediate the progress to her mouth. She adds to her Baby Drama by attempting to do a neck bridge while screaming. I am positive that someday this will flip the boppy - instead the seatbelt does its job.
I try to reason with her.
Hah.
Right.
She stops long enough to take the bottle in her mouth, gives the nipple a chew, and then spits it out. Never mind me having no time to reinforce the concept of holding the bottle.
This dance continues for the next five minutes - only stopping long enough to remove a hanging toy that Sienna has decided it is time to play with - with the bottle in, bottle out, more crying; I intellectualize the entire situation.
I have to. Sienna is hungry and her pattern is being changed. A pattern Daddy and Mommy helped created.
Still though all I want is for her to drink from the bottle.
The Baby Drama has drawn Scudder in from the bedroom. He comes by, sniffs the situation out, then sits down in the kitchen. I snap at Scudder when he lets out a plaintive meow.
I'm not about to snap at my child. She now has the bottle in her mouth. She takes down a full ounce this time. She gets one hand up. She has stopped crying now.
This is usually the part during the breastfeeding where she stops eating for a second, gives a smile and the continues. She stops eating, gives me a frown and lets out a wail.
I THINK for a moment that I hear Danielle yell for me. I hope not as I tell Sienna that Mommy isn't an option and that she has to eat the food. That we will be here all morning if necessary.
It is a blur really. Fatigue. Hope. Everything as disconnected now as it was in the moment. Sienna drinks some more - spits out the bottle and then turns bright red.
Her faces seems to morph slightly into a square that takes on the hue of a fire hydrant and her eyes water up once again. This is her universal sign she is going the bathroom.
I offer her some encouragement while she finishes her baby business. At least I know there will be a present waiting for me in the diaper. She eats some more.
More.
A little more.
She has an ounce left.
One ounce.
She quits on me.
One ounce short.
The undeniable I'm Done! A parent can tell these things. A tired parent may even been convincing himself.
5:18 when I take her back to her crib. She lets out a HUGE wail - the loudest one yet when she knows that pre-breakfast is now done. One dirty diaper change later she is back in bed.
I figure it will take me two weeks of morning baby drama before she is holding her own bottle. She has done it in the past. Today was about breaking the concept that if I refuse Mommy is around to feed me.
I feel strict. That I was forceful with what is going on. I held to me guns.
Yeah, I'm a parent. Nine months and one day into Sienna's life and I am definitely a parent. I look at the baby monitor: she is already asleep, less than a minute after I left her.
Wayne
--
* To any non-parent this mostly likely sounds similar to child abuse. Please. You pick up a crying child quickly and you know what you get? A child who knows she will be picked up if she cried. Kids are smart, Sienna instantly knows what mommy and daddy are really feeling. If I had her people reading skills I'd be in charge of the universe. A child can also cry soothe herself back to sleep after a few minutes.
Sienna had been crying for a good half an hour.*
Somewhere along the line Sienna started refusing to drink from the bottle. Refusing may be too strong a word - after all she only cries, refuses to hold the bottle, and general creates what day care refers to as "drama." Actually refusing is exactly the right word. She isn't drinking as milk as before. Day care is worried a tiny bit and so are we.
Danielle and I are trying to do our part by giving me the 5:30 AM feeding via the bottle. Sienna can't tell time though and believes that 4:56 AM is an appropriate time.
Two minutes of warming up the water. Putting her bottle in it. Then getting Sienna from her crib.
She is in crawl position and heads right toward the sound of the door opening when I enter the room. She lifts her head up and lets out a wail. Even in the semi-darkness I can see the reflection off her tear soaked face.
I pick her up and after a few steps she stops crying - though she looks dazed. Crying off and on forty five minutes will do that to you. I am doing my best not to trip as I walk down the hallway. Every imperfection of the wood suddenly seems like a tripping hazard as I make my way to the kitchen.
Sienna does NOT like being loaded and seatbelted into her boppy this morning and starts crying again. She is used to Mommy's breast when we are in the house and she knows Mommy is SOMEWHERE around here. She can sense her.
Baby Spider-sense.
I get the bottle, kneel down next to her, and the two tiny hands immediate the progress to her mouth. She adds to her Baby Drama by attempting to do a neck bridge while screaming. I am positive that someday this will flip the boppy - instead the seatbelt does its job.
I try to reason with her.
Hah.
Right.
She stops long enough to take the bottle in her mouth, gives the nipple a chew, and then spits it out. Never mind me having no time to reinforce the concept of holding the bottle.
This dance continues for the next five minutes - only stopping long enough to remove a hanging toy that Sienna has decided it is time to play with - with the bottle in, bottle out, more crying; I intellectualize the entire situation.
I have to. Sienna is hungry and her pattern is being changed. A pattern Daddy and Mommy helped created.
Still though all I want is for her to drink from the bottle.
The Baby Drama has drawn Scudder in from the bedroom. He comes by, sniffs the situation out, then sits down in the kitchen. I snap at Scudder when he lets out a plaintive meow.
I'm not about to snap at my child. She now has the bottle in her mouth. She takes down a full ounce this time. She gets one hand up. She has stopped crying now.
This is usually the part during the breastfeeding where she stops eating for a second, gives a smile and the continues. She stops eating, gives me a frown and lets out a wail.
I THINK for a moment that I hear Danielle yell for me. I hope not as I tell Sienna that Mommy isn't an option and that she has to eat the food. That we will be here all morning if necessary.
It is a blur really. Fatigue. Hope. Everything as disconnected now as it was in the moment. Sienna drinks some more - spits out the bottle and then turns bright red.
Her faces seems to morph slightly into a square that takes on the hue of a fire hydrant and her eyes water up once again. This is her universal sign she is going the bathroom.
I offer her some encouragement while she finishes her baby business. At least I know there will be a present waiting for me in the diaper. She eats some more.
More.
A little more.
She has an ounce left.
One ounce.
She quits on me.
One ounce short.
The undeniable I'm Done! A parent can tell these things. A tired parent may even been convincing himself.
5:18 when I take her back to her crib. She lets out a HUGE wail - the loudest one yet when she knows that pre-breakfast is now done. One dirty diaper change later she is back in bed.
I figure it will take me two weeks of morning baby drama before she is holding her own bottle. She has done it in the past. Today was about breaking the concept that if I refuse Mommy is around to feed me.
I feel strict. That I was forceful with what is going on. I held to me guns.
Yeah, I'm a parent. Nine months and one day into Sienna's life and I am definitely a parent. I look at the baby monitor: she is already asleep, less than a minute after I left her.
Wayne
--
* To any non-parent this mostly likely sounds similar to child abuse. Please. You pick up a crying child quickly and you know what you get? A child who knows she will be picked up if she cried. Kids are smart, Sienna instantly knows what mommy and daddy are really feeling. If I had her people reading skills I'd be in charge of the universe. A child can also cry soothe herself back to sleep after a few minutes.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Accidental Carolina Style
Leave to Sienna to help get my pulled pork recipe correct.
I've been experimenting with various Pulled Pork recipes in my crockpot for oh, the last two years and FINALLY I managed to experiment my way into a little tasty bit. It ends up wet, tasty, and more toward a tangy Carolina style.
What happened was I had pork butt in the fridge that I was going to cook overnight. Probably. Sienna had to visit the Doctor, so I worked from home. I ended up dropping her off at day care around noon and upon coming home I figured I'd throw the pork into the crockpot.
I wasn't paying attention to the time or I would have notice that five hours from putting the food into the pot would put me right into the middle of picking up Sienna from day care. After five hours in the pot I had to do a SUPER FAST shread, adding of BBQ and rushing off to pick her up.
Naturally it worked out perfectly. Happy accidents. Here is the recipe.
Very excited.
Now she knows where the recipe came from.
Wayne
I've been experimenting with various Pulled Pork recipes in my crockpot for oh, the last two years and FINALLY I managed to experiment my way into a little tasty bit. It ends up wet, tasty, and more toward a tangy Carolina style.
What happened was I had pork butt in the fridge that I was going to cook overnight. Probably. Sienna had to visit the Doctor, so I worked from home. I ended up dropping her off at day care around noon and upon coming home I figured I'd throw the pork into the crockpot.
I wasn't paying attention to the time or I would have notice that five hours from putting the food into the pot would put me right into the middle of picking up Sienna from day care. After five hours in the pot I had to do a SUPER FAST shread, adding of BBQ and rushing off to pick her up.
Naturally it worked out perfectly. Happy accidents. Here is the recipe.
- 5 pounds of pork butt (I prefer the fattiness of a pork butt to the tenderness of the pork shoulder)
- 4 cups of apple cider vinegar
- 2 cups of red wine vinegar
- 1 white onion sliced (in retrospect I'd go with 2
- 16 ounces bottle of bbq sauce - I used mesquite, though you can go with whatever you flavor preference happens to be
- Throw it all the crock pot, 5 hours on low
- Drain 99.5% of the liquid and LEAVE the onions in
- Shred, removing most of the fat as you go along
- Add sauce and stir it up
- One hour on high
Tasty.
Very excited.
Now she knows where the recipe came from.
Wayne
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Why I Won't Be Behind Home Plate Tonight
I am the King-of-Figure-It-Out. A friend once said it to me and I took it as a compliment with a certain amount of pride. Heck, I would love to put it on my resume as SKILL: King-of-Figure-It-Out.
Remember in previous postings how I said that free tickets pop up at unexpected times? Yeah, this was one of them. My boss at work Lahmani had received Mets tickets for our group doing some fantastic job on some project or another. Tickets directly behind home plate. So close that the umpire can hear you talk some trash. So close that...you get the point.
She offered them out to the group and despite the delay in time of receiving the message and replying... I said yes. You automatically say yes. I always say yes in these situations. I am the King-of-Figure-It-Out.
That is if I think the tickets are still available. Luckily I am in a group with Yankee fans, Long Islandites, and people with children. Oh. People with children.
People like me. How life can change quickly. (By the way if this is a sitcom hijinks would have ensued).
I retract my message to Lahmani. The King-of-Figure-It-Out isn't the King-of-Tell-The-Boss-One-Thing-And-Then-Cancel. That is just a bad move. Still, there was time. I am required to pick Sienna up from daycare at approximately 5:45.
Calling babysitter Grandma was out of the question since she had already picked up Sienna yesterday* when Danielle was working the game and I was scheduled to go. I wondered what cave man would do in the situation - he had much larger problems involving children than I did - and seriously, whenever something vexs me at all I wonder what a caveman would do. It is surprisingly effective in cutting through the bs.
Caveman would take his child with him. Well, there you go then. Thanks mighty ancestor of mine! Though I am not sure that caveman would have known that a child under 26 inches does not require a ticket.
I called Danielle at her office. I believe it is what caveman would have done - if he had telephones instead of two rocks to smack together.
ME: Hi, sweetie.
DANIELLE: Hey.
ME: If I go to a Mets game with co-workers and sit behind home plate - any chance you can pick up Sienna?
Aside 1: To understand the awesomeness of this question, understand Danielle has to work every home Mets game. Also understand that sometimes the most obvious query means I do not have to figure anything out.
DANIELLE (Pause)
Aside 2: Have I mentioned my wife gives the best pauses ever? It is an artform. Like any artform she never knows she is doing it - only that it is magical.
DANIELLE (Pause)
Aside 3: It takes a while since she is running through options
DANIELLE: I don't see how it will work since I need to be here.
ME: How about this? I go home and pick up, Sienna. I bring her out to the ballpark and then we'll ride home later together?
DANIELLE (Pause)
ME: It *could* work.
DANIELLE: How would you plan on getting here? I have the car.
ME: Subway?
Aside 4: Okay, am I so into Mets baseball and free ticket on a rainy day that would require me carting a child through rush hour train traffic to a game that is potentially going to be rained out? Um yes. Have you ever sat in a seat behind home plate? Would I not have DVRd the entire even so I could show Sienna footage of her smiling at the camera and my co-workers looking furious as she shoved a hand in their beer?
DANIELLE: It is supposed to rain. I don't think it is the best idea. You'll end up cold, wet, and with a crying child.
And with that King-of-Figure-It-Out met Mother-of-all-Logic. Actually I am pretty sure Sienna would have been fine. However I hate getting soaked. Danielle is also completely reasonable and that she entertains these questions at all is why I love her.
Instead I will enjoy it from another pretty good seat in a house and Sienna will indeed be on my lap. Though any choice words for the umpire will be for our ears only.
Well, until her 7:30 bedtime. Then I turn off the game while I read her a bedtime story - priorities and all.
See. I figured out something that works.
Wayne
--
Go to Bloombergsports.mlblogs.com to hear Wayne on "Behind the Numbers" or follow him on @wparillo - third person statements in a personal blog. Weird.
*Grandma would have done it. She loves her grand daughter. Actually Grandma might have brought her to the game herself.
Remember in previous postings how I said that free tickets pop up at unexpected times? Yeah, this was one of them. My boss at work Lahmani had received Mets tickets for our group doing some fantastic job on some project or another. Tickets directly behind home plate. So close that the umpire can hear you talk some trash. So close that...you get the point.
She offered them out to the group and despite the delay in time of receiving the message and replying... I said yes. You automatically say yes. I always say yes in these situations. I am the King-of-Figure-It-Out.
That is if I think the tickets are still available. Luckily I am in a group with Yankee fans, Long Islandites, and people with children. Oh. People with children.
People like me. How life can change quickly. (By the way if this is a sitcom hijinks would have ensued).
I retract my message to Lahmani. The King-of-Figure-It-Out isn't the King-of-Tell-The-Boss-One-Thing-And-Then-Cancel. That is just a bad move. Still, there was time. I am required to pick Sienna up from daycare at approximately 5:45.
Calling babysitter Grandma was out of the question since she had already picked up Sienna yesterday* when Danielle was working the game and I was scheduled to go. I wondered what cave man would do in the situation - he had much larger problems involving children than I did - and seriously, whenever something vexs me at all I wonder what a caveman would do. It is surprisingly effective in cutting through the bs.
Caveman would take his child with him. Well, there you go then. Thanks mighty ancestor of mine! Though I am not sure that caveman would have known that a child under 26 inches does not require a ticket.
I called Danielle at her office. I believe it is what caveman would have done - if he had telephones instead of two rocks to smack together.
ME: Hi, sweetie.
DANIELLE: Hey.
ME: If I go to a Mets game with co-workers and sit behind home plate - any chance you can pick up Sienna?
Aside 1: To understand the awesomeness of this question, understand Danielle has to work every home Mets game. Also understand that sometimes the most obvious query means I do not have to figure anything out.
DANIELLE (Pause)
Aside 2: Have I mentioned my wife gives the best pauses ever? It is an artform. Like any artform she never knows she is doing it - only that it is magical.
DANIELLE (Pause)
Aside 3: It takes a while since she is running through options
DANIELLE: I don't see how it will work since I need to be here.
ME: How about this? I go home and pick up, Sienna. I bring her out to the ballpark and then we'll ride home later together?
DANIELLE (Pause)
ME: It *could* work.
DANIELLE: How would you plan on getting here? I have the car.
ME: Subway?
Aside 4: Okay, am I so into Mets baseball and free ticket on a rainy day that would require me carting a child through rush hour train traffic to a game that is potentially going to be rained out? Um yes. Have you ever sat in a seat behind home plate? Would I not have DVRd the entire even so I could show Sienna footage of her smiling at the camera and my co-workers looking furious as she shoved a hand in their beer?
DANIELLE: It is supposed to rain. I don't think it is the best idea. You'll end up cold, wet, and with a crying child.
And with that King-of-Figure-It-Out met Mother-of-all-Logic. Actually I am pretty sure Sienna would have been fine. However I hate getting soaked. Danielle is also completely reasonable and that she entertains these questions at all is why I love her.
Instead I will enjoy it from another pretty good seat in a house and Sienna will indeed be on my lap. Though any choice words for the umpire will be for our ears only.
Well, until her 7:30 bedtime. Then I turn off the game while I read her a bedtime story - priorities and all.
See. I figured out something that works.
Wayne
--
Go to Bloombergsports.mlblogs.com to hear Wayne on "Behind the Numbers" or follow him on @wparillo - third person statements in a personal blog. Weird.
*Grandma would have done it. She loves her grand daughter. Actually Grandma might have brought her to the game herself.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)