Monday, March 21, 2011
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
Growth Chart
It's not scientific, but it makes the point pretty well:
As reference, I'll post an old photo too. This is from Oct 28, 2010. Take note of the green floral pattern:
Yes, it's the exact same item.
As reference, I'll post an old photo too. This is from Oct 28, 2010. Take note of the green floral pattern:
Yes, it's the exact same item.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Back from Puerto Rico!
Lots of great stories and photos....if the little monster gives me some free time tomorrow I will post some.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
How to describe him? He's entering a really great phase: alert, curious, and adorable. He is frequently laughing, frequently gazing in wonder with wide eyes at everything around him. He soaks it all in. The flapping arms, the way he holds them horizontal and then suddenly flaps them down when he gets excited.
He used to get nervous and scared standing up. he was kind of terrified and fascinated by it, and after a few minutes he would start to cry. now he wants to stay standing all day long. he gets standing up and suddenly the little head starts swiveling left and right, like hey now i can see things. and sure enough there he is looking at the coffee table with the new Atlantic on it.
The way he watches first and then reacts. There's this tiny moment between when you do the funny thing (make a sound, zoom your head toward him) and he reacts to it. The reaction might just be a smile, or a gurgle, or it might be a full on laugh. But he is clearly taking a few seconds to process whatever you're doing, take it in and chew on it, before he decides that he likes it and gives you his reaction.
The quiet moments. He can spend tens of minutes at a time just sitting quietly staring into space now. That almost never happens if he's sitting in a car seat or on the couch. But if I have him tucked under my arm--- and he's still just under the weight and height limit to fit under my arm--- he will sometimes just sit silently, sucking on his fist and slobbering all down his front. This is much more likely to happen if I am active, getting up walking around and performing tasks. He can be completely calm for a long time under the left arm, if he's watching me go about my business with my right arm.
He used to get nervous and scared standing up. he was kind of terrified and fascinated by it, and after a few minutes he would start to cry. now he wants to stay standing all day long. he gets standing up and suddenly the little head starts swiveling left and right, like hey now i can see things. and sure enough there he is looking at the coffee table with the new Atlantic on it.
The way he watches first and then reacts. There's this tiny moment between when you do the funny thing (make a sound, zoom your head toward him) and he reacts to it. The reaction might just be a smile, or a gurgle, or it might be a full on laugh. But he is clearly taking a few seconds to process whatever you're doing, take it in and chew on it, before he decides that he likes it and gives you his reaction.
The quiet moments. He can spend tens of minutes at a time just sitting quietly staring into space now. That almost never happens if he's sitting in a car seat or on the couch. But if I have him tucked under my arm--- and he's still just under the weight and height limit to fit under my arm--- he will sometimes just sit silently, sucking on his fist and slobbering all down his front. This is much more likely to happen if I am active, getting up walking around and performing tasks. He can be completely calm for a long time under the left arm, if he's watching me go about my business with my right arm.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Friday, March 11, 2011
bottle feeding part 2
Some of you may have read my previous post about teaching Elliot to take a plastic bottle. You may have noticed that there was lots of existential ranting, but scant details about the actual process of bottle training.
So here's the rest of the story.
As I started feeding Elliot regularly, I found that the best strategy was to face him toward some object he likes. (These include, in descending order, the colander, the refrigerator, a photograph of a semi-nude woman that hangs in the hallway, and Hannah's grandmother's oil painting of a flower.)
So on the momentous day when he finally took the bottle, I had him upright in my arms, facing out. I was standing in front of the colander, which hangs from our pot rack. This allowed me to lean back against the kitchen counter.
He seemed content there, but I had a problem. If he'd been on his back I could have held the bottle upside down, vertically, and the milk would have flowed easily. But since he was seated upright, the bottle kept tipping forward and no milk could come out. So he was playing with the nipple but not drinking from it.
Every time I tried to lie him on his back, he cried and wouldn't take the bottle. And every time I sat him upright he sucked on the nipple but no milk came out. Fnck!
So here's what I did: I let him just suck on the empty nipple, kind of playing with it. And then, since I was leaning against the kitchen counter with him comfortably snuggled in my arms, I leaned my whole body backwards very very slowly. Little by little, tiny increments. I watched as he continued to suck, not noticing that he was slowly tipping horizontal. And I watched the milk slowly roll forward toward the tip of the nipple.
Eh voila! The milk filled the nipple, and Elliot kept sucking away happily. Little bubbles rose through the fluid. Elliot was drinking from a bottle. Success!
There was only one problem, and I was feeling it in my abs. To get the correct angle to feed him at, I had unconsciously leaned way, way back, so that I was essentially holding myself mid-sit-up, with an 18 pound weight resting on my chest.
Now, I know you think I do regular 18-pound weight sit-ups--- how else would I have such sweet abs? But you are incorrect. I do not do sit-ups to get these sweet abs.
After about five seconds I was hurting bad. I held the sit-up for about ten more seconds, out of love for Elliot and commitment to his nutritional status. And then I quit.
I know it seems crazy, but at the time it felt like any movement would disrupt the delicate balance. Maybe it's like the fog of war that soldiers describe: in that moment of panic and desperation you sometimes do crazy sh!t that you cannot explain later.
So here's the rest of the story.
As I started feeding Elliot regularly, I found that the best strategy was to face him toward some object he likes. (These include, in descending order, the colander, the refrigerator, a photograph of a semi-nude woman that hangs in the hallway, and Hannah's grandmother's oil painting of a flower.)
So on the momentous day when he finally took the bottle, I had him upright in my arms, facing out. I was standing in front of the colander, which hangs from our pot rack. This allowed me to lean back against the kitchen counter.
He seemed content there, but I had a problem. If he'd been on his back I could have held the bottle upside down, vertically, and the milk would have flowed easily. But since he was seated upright, the bottle kept tipping forward and no milk could come out. So he was playing with the nipple but not drinking from it.
Every time I tried to lie him on his back, he cried and wouldn't take the bottle. And every time I sat him upright he sucked on the nipple but no milk came out. Fnck!
So here's what I did: I let him just suck on the empty nipple, kind of playing with it. And then, since I was leaning against the kitchen counter with him comfortably snuggled in my arms, I leaned my whole body backwards very very slowly. Little by little, tiny increments. I watched as he continued to suck, not noticing that he was slowly tipping horizontal. And I watched the milk slowly roll forward toward the tip of the nipple.
Eh voila! The milk filled the nipple, and Elliot kept sucking away happily. Little bubbles rose through the fluid. Elliot was drinking from a bottle. Success!
There was only one problem, and I was feeling it in my abs. To get the correct angle to feed him at, I had unconsciously leaned way, way back, so that I was essentially holding myself mid-sit-up, with an 18 pound weight resting on my chest.
Now, I know you think I do regular 18-pound weight sit-ups--- how else would I have such sweet abs? But you are incorrect. I do not do sit-ups to get these sweet abs.
After about five seconds I was hurting bad. I held the sit-up for about ten more seconds, out of love for Elliot and commitment to his nutritional status. And then I quit.
I know it seems crazy, but at the time it felt like any movement would disrupt the delicate balance. Maybe it's like the fog of war that soldiers describe: in that moment of panic and desperation you sometimes do crazy sh!t that you cannot explain later.
Live-blogging Dad Week
Beautiful day today. already went for a walk, met a couple of adorable toddlers at the coffee shop. Favorite quote: "Babies are so little!" says the 2 year-old.
Chugging back the milk. He's had about 10oz and it's not even noon...
Chugging back the milk. He's had about 10oz and it's not even noon...
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Live-blogging Dad Week
The blog's number one fan wrote me wondering about today's update...I totally forgot. I clearly have no future in blogging. You have to do this every day? Multiple times? Jeeez.
Elliot drank five bags of milk already today, which comes out to at LEAST fifteen ounces (although I stopped counting along the way). So we're pretty much past the bottle stubbornness phase.....
It was rainy so we didn't do much else. I put him in the carrier and walked over to the Brooklyn Museum, stood under the awning and read my book while he slept. Which is a col way to get a little reading in.
Elliot drank five bags of milk already today, which comes out to at LEAST fifteen ounces (although I stopped counting along the way). So we're pretty much past the bottle stubbornness phase.....
It was rainy so we didn't do much else. I put him in the carrier and walked over to the Brooklyn Museum, stood under the awning and read my book while he slept. Which is a col way to get a little reading in.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Live-blogging Dad Week
Back from a nice walk.
He drank 8 oz from the bottle today! Turns out he loves the bottle and will drink from it every 1.5 hours or so.
For the record, I am aware that for three months Hannah did what I've been doing this week, without feeling the need to blog, tweet, or otherwise trumpet the accomplishment.
And now, I will carry on trumpeting my accomplishments....
He drank 8 oz from the bottle today! Turns out he loves the bottle and will drink from it every 1.5 hours or so.
For the record, I am aware that for three months Hannah did what I've been doing this week, without feeling the need to blog, tweet, or otherwise trumpet the accomplishment.
And now, I will carry on trumpeting my accomplishments....
Live-blogging Dad Week
Fussy today. Not so many updates.
But he got his shots successfully yesterday.
According to pediatrician scale, he lost 10 oz in past two weeks. But our Dr. insists it's just the scale that is off. "He has NOT lost weight," she said with complete confidence.
Are you saying our baby is fat, Dr. Klotzman?
But he got his shots successfully yesterday.
According to pediatrician scale, he lost 10 oz in past two weeks. But our Dr. insists it's just the scale that is off. "He has NOT lost weight," she said with complete confidence.
Are you saying our baby is fat, Dr. Klotzman?
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Live Blogging Dad Week
Hm, just noticed that Blogger is listing the wrong time next to my posts. They can target advertising honed precisely to my micropreferences, but they can't figure out I'm on the East coast?
I'm sure there's a "setting" button someplace...
I'm sure there's a "setting" button someplace...
Live Blogging Dad Week
back from Beacon's closet. Got $40. Elliot loves vintage clothes. Or maybe it was just the chili pepper xmas tree lights.
drank a couple ounces of milk very happily earlier. now asleep in the Bjorn.
drank a couple ounces of milk very happily earlier. now asleep in the Bjorn.
Live-blogging Dad Week
Forgot to mention the super-packed evening agenda:
5:30pm Elliot gets his 4 month shots at the pediatrician's office
6:00pm pick up CSA veggie share
7:00 Cameron Book Club
8:00 Hannah Mom's Group
9:30 collapse in exhaustion
5:30pm Elliot gets his 4 month shots at the pediatrician's office
6:00pm pick up CSA veggie share
7:00 Cameron Book Club
8:00 Hannah Mom's Group
9:30 collapse in exhaustion
Live-blogging Dad Week
Day #2:
Big news last night: Elliot took a pacifier for the first time. Did it allow him to sleep contentedly in his own crib? Absolutely not. But at least he sucked on it. Baby steps, people.
Hannah just left for work, and Elliot's in a pretty good mood. On the agenda:
--sell some used clothes at Beacon's Closet
--Pick up a Puerto Rico guidebook at the library
Plus the standard list of tummy time, standing time, crying time, and, hopefully, sleeping time.
Big news last night: Elliot took a pacifier for the first time. Did it allow him to sleep contentedly in his own crib? Absolutely not. But at least he sucked on it. Baby steps, people.
Hannah just left for work, and Elliot's in a pretty good mood. On the agenda:
--sell some used clothes at Beacon's Closet
--Pick up a Puerto Rico guidebook at the library
Plus the standard list of tummy time, standing time, crying time, and, hopefully, sleeping time.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Live-blogging Dad Week
Got my first arm hickey two hours ago. So proud.
Now Hannah is back and my shift is over. Time to get drunk!
Now Hannah is back and my shift is over. Time to get drunk!
Live Blogging Dad Week
Big feed! 2 ounces from the Medela bottle. much less spilled down shirtfront (his, not mine).
Live-blogging Dad Week
Mt first day alone with Elliot.
One hand typing.
E asleep for the second time since Hannah left at 8:45am.
He drank about an ounce of milk. 3 ounces down the shirtfront.
Generally crabby but not screaming.
One hand typing.
E asleep for the second time since Hannah left at 8:45am.
He drank about an ounce of milk. 3 ounces down the shirtfront.
Generally crabby but not screaming.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
The Week Past and the Week to Come
Workwise, this past week was pretty brutal. I woke up Monday feeling like crap, but went to work anyway. Around lunchtime I realized I was in trouble and wrapped it up quickly and headed home. I spent all of Monday night and Tuesday either sleeping or complaining to Kate and Ed about my febrile malaise. Wednesday I decided I was better and went back to work. But I wasn't really better, so I had a little relapse. I didn't take another day off work, but what could have been a two day illness is still lingering.
This next week promises to be an interesting one. Hannah will be working and for the first time I'll be taking care of Elliot at home. I've never spent nine uninterrupted hours alone with Elliot --- I'll let you know how it goes.
Another shout-out to Hannah's parents, who did an absolutely fabulous job during the 10 days they served as our live-in babysitters. They blazed the trail I am about to tread, and laid down such useful rest stops as Water Play. Apparently Elliot is quite amused by the fact that water pours from a metal tube in the kitchen. If you sit him on the edge of the sink he will happily watch the water, and enjoys having it splashed on him.
He seems to have a lost a teeny bit of weight since Hannah has gone back to work. This is from his extreme stubbornness when it comes to bottle feeding. Hannah will be gone for nine hours and he is pretty much willing to fast for that time period rather than drink for a bottle. The little he does take from the bottle seems to be more for sport than nutrition --- he drinks in the morning when he's feeling curious and open-minded. In the evening when he's really hungry, he will not deign to allow plastic between his lips. He knows that Hannah will be home soon so he just hunkers down and waits.
As a result, he's gone from super-pudgy to just regular pudgy. All those weeks of his off the charts weight gain is starting look like good planning-- a bear laying on the blubber in anticipation of a winter fast.
This next week promises to be an interesting one. Hannah will be working and for the first time I'll be taking care of Elliot at home. I've never spent nine uninterrupted hours alone with Elliot --- I'll let you know how it goes.
Another shout-out to Hannah's parents, who did an absolutely fabulous job during the 10 days they served as our live-in babysitters. They blazed the trail I am about to tread, and laid down such useful rest stops as Water Play. Apparently Elliot is quite amused by the fact that water pours from a metal tube in the kitchen. If you sit him on the edge of the sink he will happily watch the water, and enjoys having it splashed on him.
He seems to have a lost a teeny bit of weight since Hannah has gone back to work. This is from his extreme stubbornness when it comes to bottle feeding. Hannah will be gone for nine hours and he is pretty much willing to fast for that time period rather than drink for a bottle. The little he does take from the bottle seems to be more for sport than nutrition --- he drinks in the morning when he's feeling curious and open-minded. In the evening when he's really hungry, he will not deign to allow plastic between his lips. He knows that Hannah will be home soon so he just hunkers down and waits.
As a result, he's gone from super-pudgy to just regular pudgy. All those weeks of his off the charts weight gain is starting look like good planning-- a bear laying on the blubber in anticipation of a winter fast.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Friday, March 4, 2011
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Recent Events
Elliot had a few episodes of blood in his stool. We went to the doctor, and she recommended that Hannah stop eating dairy. Since she's already a vegetarian, this pretty much makes her a vegan. To keep things balanced, I'm eating twice as much meat and cheese.
While we're on the topic of human waste: we also saw some pink stains in his diaper, right where the pee was supposed to be. It happened a few times, which sent us back to the doctor. They collected a little and said that there was no blood in his urine, and Dr. Klotzman (who we highly recommend, I frequently remind myself of her advice to "enjoy him") said that the pink stains were probably uric acid crystals, which can form when a child gets dehydrated.
So, why is Elliot getting dehydrated? That brings me to my next update: Hannah went back to work last week. And Elliot is not thrilled with drinking from a bottle. You'd think after five hours without eating anything he would give in, but not so this stubborn one. So he has basically been on a hunger strike each day, and then gorging himself with breast milk at night.
Another item of note is that Hannah's parents have been INCREDIBLY AWESOME to come here and stay with us during this transition period. Our plan was for each of us to alternate weeks working and caring for Elliot. But we have about 10 days that don't fall into this plan, and they generously came out here to bridge the gap.
My final item of note is that I got sick yesterday. It was about a 30-hour bug. I'm typing this out right now because it's pretty much been beaten....
While we're on the topic of human waste: we also saw some pink stains in his diaper, right where the pee was supposed to be. It happened a few times, which sent us back to the doctor. They collected a little and said that there was no blood in his urine, and Dr. Klotzman (who we highly recommend, I frequently remind myself of her advice to "enjoy him") said that the pink stains were probably uric acid crystals, which can form when a child gets dehydrated.
So, why is Elliot getting dehydrated? That brings me to my next update: Hannah went back to work last week. And Elliot is not thrilled with drinking from a bottle. You'd think after five hours without eating anything he would give in, but not so this stubborn one. So he has basically been on a hunger strike each day, and then gorging himself with breast milk at night.
Another item of note is that Hannah's parents have been INCREDIBLY AWESOME to come here and stay with us during this transition period. Our plan was for each of us to alternate weeks working and caring for Elliot. But we have about 10 days that don't fall into this plan, and they generously came out here to bridge the gap.
My final item of note is that I got sick yesterday. It was about a 30-hour bug. I'm typing this out right now because it's pretty much been beaten....
Monday, February 28, 2011
The Baby Whisperer
Then Aaron took him in his arms. And the kid stopped crying. Not just a little. Together they went to this calm pensive place, and made no sound for about 20 minutes.
Which is why Aaron's new nickname is the baby whisperer.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Circumcision
We haven’t had Elliot circumcised yet. I always assumed that we would, mainly because I am. But I haven't thought too much about it, and every time I look at his little wiener while changing his diaper it feels strange to think about cutting it. I realized that I need to examine this question a little more closely, so I did a little early Sunday morning web review.
The arguments for circumcision are hygeine issues (phimosis is not a fun thing; don't click that link if you're squeamish) and lower rates of STD infection.
The arguments against circumcision are that it hurts, it reduces sexual pleasure, and simple principle: the foreskin is a normal human body part, why should we cut it off?
"Circumcision is not an ethical medical procedure," said Georganne Chapin, executive director of Intact America, a Tarrytown, N.Y., advocacy group. "You are removing a perfectly normal body part. We don't allow people to do that to their daughters. We should not let them do it to their sons."
One must also consider that the foreskin contains 50% of the surface area of the penis. Each circumcision cuts off what would grow to be 6 inches of tissue, laden with 240 feet of nerves and 1,000 nerve endings Removal of it can only lead to a drastic loss of sensation during sexual activity.
These people seem to be saying that size matters. If a penis was four times normal size, would the pleasure be four times as much? The argument seems bogus. To quote the esteemed philosopher Raquel Welch, the brain is the biggest erogenous zone. And the brain wires itself to the organ its connected to.
Objectives: Currently no consensus exists about the role of the foreskin or the effect circumcision has on penile sensitivity and overall sexual satisfaction. Our study assesses the effect of circumcision on sexually active men and the relative impact this may have on informed consent prior to surgery. Materials and Methods: One hundred and fifty men between the ages of 18 and 60 years were identified as being circumcised for benign disease between 1999 and 2002. Patients with erectile dysfunction were excluded from the study. The data was assessed using the abridged, 5-item version of the International Index of Erectile Function (IIEF-5). Questions were also asked about libido, penile sensitivity, premature ejaculation, pain during intercourse and appearance before and after circumcision. Results: Fifty-nine percent of patients (88/150) responded. The total mean IIEF-5 score was 22.41 8 0.94 and 21.13 8 3.17 before and after circumcision, respectively (p = 0.4). Seventy-four percent of patients had no change in their libido levels, 69% noticed less pain during intercourse (p ! 0.05), and 44% of the patients (p = 0.04) and 38% of the partners (p = 0.02) thought the penis appearance improved after circumcision. Penile sensation improved after circumcision in 38% (p = 0.01) but got worse in 18%, with the remainder having no change. Overall satisfaction was 61%. Conclusions: Penile sensitivity had variable outcomes after circumcision.
That's just one study. Nine have been done --- three showed more penile sensation, one showed less, and five showed no change. Here's the creepily comprehensive wikipedia page on the topic of penile sensation after circumcision. Of course, all these studies are done in adults, so it's impossible to know what might be different in an infant. But
Now, what about infections? Three large studies, involving almost 10,000 men, showed massive decreases in the number of HIV infections. Here are the result of the biggest study:
A total of 3,274 uncircumcised men, aged 18-24 y, were randomized to a control or an intervention group with follow-up visits at months 3, 12, and 21. Male circumcision was offered to the intervention group immediately after randomization and to the control group at the end of the follow-up. The trial was stopped at the interim analysis, and the mean (interquartile range) follow-up was 18.1 mo (13.0-21.0) when the data were analyzed. There were 20 HIV infections (incidence rate = 0.85 per 100 person-years) in the intervention group [i.e. circumcised] and 49 (2.1 per 100 person-years) in the control group [uncircumcised], corresponding to an RR of 0.40 (95% CI: 0.24%-0.68%; p < 0.001). This RR corresponds to a protection of 60% (95% CI: 32%-76%). When controlling for behavioural factors, including sexual behaviour that increased slightly in the intervention group, condom use, and health-seeking behaviour, the protection was of 61% (95% CI: 34%-77%).
Until just this year, it had been a mystery why circumcision lowered the rate of HIV infection. Now there's some actual data. Sampling bacteria from the penises of men before and after circumcision and found that
there are gross changes in the penis's microbiome following circumcision, suggesting that shifts in the bacterial environment could account, in part, for the differences in HIV infection. Families of anaerobic bacteria, which are unable to grow in the presence of oxygen, are abundant before circumcision but nearly disappear after the procedure. The researchers suspect that in uncircumcised men, these bacteria may provoke inflammation in the genitalia, thereby improving the chances that immune cells will be in the vicinity for HIV viruses to infect.
There was an interesting article in New York magazine last year, in which the author examined the pros and cons and decided to circumcise her son. She notes that
the foreskin is pretty much like the appendix or the wisdom tooth—it is an evolutionary footnote that serves no purpose other than to incubate infections. There’s no single overwhelming health reason to remove it, but there are a lot of smaller health reasons that add up.
Also, there are apparently thousands of men who are very angry about having been circumcised.
After all this reading, I'm pretty much where I started: not deeply committed to circumcision, but still leaning toward it. Then I came across this:
A picture is worth a thousand words....
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Rage Against the Machine
We've been teaching Elliot to take a bottle lately, and it's a rough time. When you've only every sucked milk from a real human breast, it's tough to accept the idea that the same stuff can come out of stiff plastic doohickey.
But I'm kind of enjoying it. Because for the first time, the burdens of parenthood fall on me. Every night, we wait until Elliot is in a good mood, and then Hannah goes into another room and closes the door. And Elliot and I play around with the bottle.
The key, I've found, is not trying to jam it down his throat. I dab it on his lips, let him play with it a little, make it a toy. Try and get him to take a swallow a few drops, so that at least the point --- this is to ingest nutrition! --- gets across.
But pretty soon he will have to go a full eight hours with nothing but the bottle. So I'm trying to step up my game. I'm pushing him harder. I'm forcing him to actually drink from it, not just play with it. And that part hasn't been going as well.
It's more than just dislike of the nipple. It's outrage. Wait, you want me to drink from this plastic thing? This is not a breast, why would I drink from this? And the more he struggles the more indignant he gets. How could even THINK I would take nutrition from this thing? The presumption! How dare you!
And as I hold him, staring down into his angry red face, I find myself feeling an unexpected emotion: respect. I'm proud of my son for fighting off the bottle, even as I'm the one shoving it down his throat. I've been trying to think about why this is.
Like most of us, I have plenty of frustrations with plastic, ersatz world we live in. I've shouted at my computer screen on a beautiful sunny day. I've sputtered at the robot-phone that can't understand my words. But, also like most of us, I've accepted it. I've learned how to navigate, and I've put that red fist-clenched rage in a deep dark place. (Because in the end, where else can you put rage directed toward a robot-phone?)
So Elliot's indignation toward the plastic nipple mirrors my own feelings toward a million other things in the world. And I love him for it.
Now, I admit that this is a massive projection on my part. He's a baby who doesn't like his bottle, and I should probably let the psychoanalysis stop there.
But I can't help but wonder if maybe that's when it all went wrong. That moment when you took the plastic nipple in your mouth, when you accepted something fake in the place of something real; when you settled for the construct, the mock-up, the simulacrum. That was when it started. You knew it was inferior, unworthy of you. You hated that plastic nipple, and you knew you deserved better, but in the end you were hungry. In the name of expediency you settled for something you didn't want.
Is it really such a leap from that first plastic nipple to that first corporate job?
We all have to suppress our outrage, that's life in modern society. We make small talk with irritating co-workers, we pay $3 ATM fees, we say "don't worry about it" when someone cancels at the last minute. In the same way, Elliot will suppress his rage toward this nipple. He'll grow so accustomed to it that he'll wonder why he ever found it distasteful. Every once in a while it'll irk him, but he'll think hey, these annoyances are part of life. You have to make little compromises to get through your day.
So rage on, little Elliot. Don't go quietly into that future, that future filled with emotional suppression. For this brief four month-old moment, remain who you are. A plastic nipple is just the first of a million strange things this world is about to throw at you. You will have to give in to most of them. But for now, go ahead and fight it. Of all people on earth, only you have lived a life completely free of compromise. Keep it up. Your impulse redeems us all.
But I'm kind of enjoying it. Because for the first time, the burdens of parenthood fall on me. Every night, we wait until Elliot is in a good mood, and then Hannah goes into another room and closes the door. And Elliot and I play around with the bottle.
The key, I've found, is not trying to jam it down his throat. I dab it on his lips, let him play with it a little, make it a toy. Try and get him to take a swallow a few drops, so that at least the point --- this is to ingest nutrition! --- gets across.
But pretty soon he will have to go a full eight hours with nothing but the bottle. So I'm trying to step up my game. I'm pushing him harder. I'm forcing him to actually drink from it, not just play with it. And that part hasn't been going as well.
It's more than just dislike of the nipple. It's outrage. Wait, you want me to drink from this plastic thing? This is not a breast, why would I drink from this? And the more he struggles the more indignant he gets. How could even THINK I would take nutrition from this thing? The presumption! How dare you!
And as I hold him, staring down into his angry red face, I find myself feeling an unexpected emotion: respect. I'm proud of my son for fighting off the bottle, even as I'm the one shoving it down his throat. I've been trying to think about why this is.
Like most of us, I have plenty of frustrations with plastic, ersatz world we live in. I've shouted at my computer screen on a beautiful sunny day. I've sputtered at the robot-phone that can't understand my words. But, also like most of us, I've accepted it. I've learned how to navigate, and I've put that red fist-clenched rage in a deep dark place. (Because in the end, where else can you put rage directed toward a robot-phone?)
So Elliot's indignation toward the plastic nipple mirrors my own feelings toward a million other things in the world. And I love him for it.
Now, I admit that this is a massive projection on my part. He's a baby who doesn't like his bottle, and I should probably let the psychoanalysis stop there.
But I can't help but wonder if maybe that's when it all went wrong. That moment when you took the plastic nipple in your mouth, when you accepted something fake in the place of something real; when you settled for the construct, the mock-up, the simulacrum. That was when it started. You knew it was inferior, unworthy of you. You hated that plastic nipple, and you knew you deserved better, but in the end you were hungry. In the name of expediency you settled for something you didn't want.
Is it really such a leap from that first plastic nipple to that first corporate job?
We all have to suppress our outrage, that's life in modern society. We make small talk with irritating co-workers, we pay $3 ATM fees, we say "don't worry about it" when someone cancels at the last minute. In the same way, Elliot will suppress his rage toward this nipple. He'll grow so accustomed to it that he'll wonder why he ever found it distasteful. Every once in a while it'll irk him, but he'll think hey, these annoyances are part of life. You have to make little compromises to get through your day.
So rage on, little Elliot. Don't go quietly into that future, that future filled with emotional suppression. For this brief four month-old moment, remain who you are. A plastic nipple is just the first of a million strange things this world is about to throw at you. You will have to give in to most of them. But for now, go ahead and fight it. Of all people on earth, only you have lived a life completely free of compromise. Keep it up. Your impulse redeems us all.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Behavioralism
Last week I put little Elliot on his back. He squirmed, twisted, pulled his hands up behind his head. He kicked one chubby leg forward and tucked the other in. And Lo did he roll to one side, as had been prophesied.
Then I cheated. I wanted to give him some tummy time, you see, and he was so close to being on his tummy....
As I was shoving him onto his belly, a thought struck me. How will he react to this? The physical sensation of flopping from your side to your face...would it be exciting? Scary? Disorienting?
It turned out to be none of the above.
His reaction was one I hadnt even considered: Pride. He thought he'd done it himself, and he was proud of this! It was fascinating. Not happiness, not pleasure, not love. The pride of accomplishment, that's what flooded across his face.
No adult taught him to have this feeling. He couldn't possibly have mimicked someone, aped the behavior of his mom or dad. He's far too young for any kind of cultural apparatus to have taken hold.
I had a moment then, one that I would guess everyone reading this has had. A simple thought suddenly seems profound. A common truth feels like wisdom. For a moment your mind's eye pulls back to take in all things, and you glimpse the larger meaning, you see how it all fits together, you touch the divine.
There's an impulse to share this great insight, so you open your mouth --- and a cliche pops out. In my case it was, "Wow, it's like, we are born, like, totally complete human beings."
But during that nanosecond before the shutter snaps closed, and you realize that your profound insight was just common sense, it actually feels like you're the first person in history to have this thought.
Then I cheated. I wanted to give him some tummy time, you see, and he was so close to being on his tummy....
As I was shoving him onto his belly, a thought struck me. How will he react to this? The physical sensation of flopping from your side to your face...would it be exciting? Scary? Disorienting?
It turned out to be none of the above.
His reaction was one I hadnt even considered: Pride. He thought he'd done it himself, and he was proud of this! It was fascinating. Not happiness, not pleasure, not love. The pride of accomplishment, that's what flooded across his face.
No adult taught him to have this feeling. He couldn't possibly have mimicked someone, aped the behavior of his mom or dad. He's far too young for any kind of cultural apparatus to have taken hold.
I had a moment then, one that I would guess everyone reading this has had. A simple thought suddenly seems profound. A common truth feels like wisdom. For a moment your mind's eye pulls back to take in all things, and you glimpse the larger meaning, you see how it all fits together, you touch the divine.
There's an impulse to share this great insight, so you open your mouth --- and a cliche pops out. In my case it was, "Wow, it's like, we are born, like, totally complete human beings."
But during that nanosecond before the shutter snaps closed, and you realize that your profound insight was just common sense, it actually feels like you're the first person in history to have this thought.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
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