The Unofficial Catalog of Dirty Diapers #2: The Footloose

For all the upsides of fatherhood, there are certainly some drawbacks. Chief among them the seemingly endless variety of dirty diapers one encounters from day to day. This is an unofficial catalog of selected specimens.

The Footloose

The Footloose is not so much a dirty diaper as it is the combination of a dirty diaper and a particularly ornery baby/toddler.

A proper Footloose typically involves a dirty diaper of epic proportions (see “The Lahar”, “The California Mudslide”, “The Ben-Hur” and similar). A Lesser Footloose (also called a “Pygmy Footloose”) may sometimes occur with a diaper of more manageable proportions.

The Footloose occurs when, in the midst of attempting to remove a Lahar or Ben-Hur type dirty diaper, the creator of said diaper kicks and squirms with sufficient energy to break loose of the parent’s grip, and manages to plant a foot directly in the recently removed diaper.

At this point, the parent’s mind goes into red alert, and all reasoning abilities are suppressed in a desperate effort to avoid contact with the poop-covered foot while simultaneously containing the child and keeping further poop distribution to a minimum.

The Footloose is a 9.5 on the UCDD scale of diaper difficulty, and may necessitate the calling in of backup in the form of another parent, both grandparents, or a highly trained helper dog.

A Year

Every two weeks or so, Photojojo e-mails me a time capsule that basically shows me pictures from my Flickr stream a year earlier. It’s really cool being reminded of where Nolan was at at various points, and how much bigger he’s gotten since. If you’re a sentimental sucker like me, and post to Flickr regularly, I highly recommend signing up.

This week, I was really struck by Nolan’s growth over the last year. Here he was over the weekend:

And here he is a year earlier, on September 13, 2008

The Lion Sleeps Tonight…

Our biggest challenge with Nolan has always been sleep.

Things started out alright when he was a baby. All we had to do was plop him in his Ambi-baby sleep hammock, and he’d pass out, waking up occasionally, as babies do, but otherwise sleeping soundly.

Then he outgrew the hammock.

We tried the crib, but the challenges of getting him to fall asleep – turning on his little fish aquarium thing, and gently “jackhammering” the mattress to lull him to dreamland – left us exhausted. And all too soon, it stopped working. Then, out of the blue, he began to hate his crib. He would scream, and scream, and scream.

Jamie, of course, read everything she could get her hands on regarding babies and sleep. We tried putting a mattress on the floor, so we could lay with him as he went down, give him comfort and all that.

It worked, kind of. But there was a catch…he couldn’t fall asleep without us there, and the moment he woke up and realized we were gone, he’d be up and searching for us in a panic. That, and, especially at night, we (okay, I) had a tendency of falling asleep with him. Never good for getting to all the housework. And, invariably, he’d wake up around 11-something. Being too lazy and too tired to go through the whole exercise again, we would just let him sleep in the bed with us.

Then, this past week, something snapped.

Nothing Like a Good Cry…

The Onion has an article up right now that I find very apropos to my new role as father:

I Can’t Imagine Why Anybody Would Want to Stop Crying

Nolan Gotta Ride…

I should have seen this coming.

Maybe back in December when I took a second look at the Mini Cooper Clubman and thought…hmm.

Maybe a few weeks ago when I installed Nolan’s car seat in the Mini and realized forcing someone to sit in the straight-backed, slid-forward passenger seat would probably constitute a violation of the Geneva Convention.

Or maybe it was the recurring dream of dropping Nolan off at day care, only to discover I couldn’t wrench is car seat out of the back, and was forced to leave the car and walk to work.

In any case…I should have seen this coming. The Mini, great as it is, has its limitations. I’ve never had to deal with those limitations (ability to carry either people or stuff, but not both…terrible backseat access…) with any regularity, but now that Nolan’s here, it’s only a matter of time before it becomes an issue, especially considering that I will be the one taking him to day care in the mornings.

And so this last week, I pulled the trigger and placed an order on a 2008 Mini Cooper Clubman S (say that five times fast). It’s a vehicle that, the more I’ve read about it, the more enamored I’ve become. Sure it’s bigger where it counts, sure it has vastly better access to the backseat and a cargo space that’s actually useable with the rear seats up. But it also has underfloor storage in the back, better iPod compatibility, better fuel economy, and from what I’ve read, a devilish little sport button that completely transforms the car’s steering weight, throttle response, and shift points.

The hardest part, actually, was figuring out which color to order. I went through several combos – blue with a silver roof, white with a black roof, and even briefly considered Hot Chocolate/Silver before finally arriving at the Chili Red/Black combo.

It should be arriving in early June. So, until then, I’ll have a few more months to bid a fond farewell to my R53. I hadn’t intended to say goodbye to it this early. In fact, one of the reasons I got the Mini when I did was becuase I was convinced the second-generation R56 was not enough of an improvement over the R53 to have me kicking myself for buying the outgoing model. With regards to the R56 itself, I still agree with that. But the R55 Clubman offers a substantial improvement in functionality that is just too good for me to pass up.

On Hold…

As the paucity of posts over the last week might indicate, Nolan’s arrival has disrupted quite a few regular activities, such as, oh, work and sleeping. The same is true for pastimes and hobbies, as Jamie and I adapt to this new presence in our lives.

As such, my writing has gone on hold for a short while. Hopefully, once we begin getting ourselves into something a routine, I’ll be able to pick back up where I left off. Speaking of which…

Frequent readers are no doubt aware I’d been racing to get as much done in the way of editing and revisions as I could ahead of Nolan’s birth. As recently as March 4th, I’d been cautiously optimistic about maybe, maybe getting through Chapter VIII before the big day. To my great surprise, I managed to put away not only Chapter VIII, but Chapters IX, X, and XI as well. In fact, I reached the end of Chapter XI on the morning of the day Jamie went into labor.

I can’t help but marvel at Nolan’s timing. The chapter now before me, Chapter XII, is the most bloated and problem-laden of the entire book, and, admittedly, the one that terrifies me the most. Where most of my other chapters are between 10-14,000 works, Chapter XII is closer to 50,000, and my plan is to cut it by at least half, without stripping away any of the details necessary to the story.

Where better to stop and take a breather, than before this behemoth of a chapter?

What a Difference a DSLR Makes…

Don’t get me wrong. My Sony Cyber-shot excels at its intended role. And the iPhone even works in a pinch. But nothing can lend a picture a sense of depth, of gravity and reality (or unreality) better than a DSLR. Point-and-shoots can’t match the better lenses, shorter depth of field, or the larger image sensors.

When Jamie and I went to the hospital, it was with our Sony Cyber-shot DSC-W130. It did the job. It took some good pictures, and adequately recorded Nolan’s first few days in this world.

But now that I’m home and brandishing my trusty Nikon D80, I think the results speak for themselves….

“He Has Your Death Stare…”

I’m not even going to attempt to blog about all that’s gone on in the last four or so days since Nolan was born. I really can’t put it into words. Or I suppose I could, but they wouldn’t be sufficient. Since I took Jamie to the hospital last Saturday, I’ve experienced the most joyous moment of my life, I’ve dealt with (and am dealing with) sleepless nights and 2 AM feeding sessions (and 3 AM, and 4:30 AM, and…), I’ve learned to hold my son. I’ve experienced hope and despair and, in a sleep-deprived stupor, questioned my ability to see this through.

And I’ve changed my first diaper.

It’s been a wild ride, and despite the difficulties along the way, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Little Hot Dog

Today at 1:19 PM, we welcomed little Nolan into the world. Still in shock and awe. But here he is…

More HERE.

It Can Hold Crap

I have found my diaper bag.