“tell cohen i love him infinity times…”
"... but explain it to him."
This is what Keaton now says as the denouement to the most recent incarnation of her borderline-OCD bedtime routine.
How did we get here? Well, a few months ago Keaton began wanting to tell mom, on night when I put her to bed, just how much she loved her. She'd emphasize the reaaallly in her, "Tell her I really love her, OK dad?" Over a few nights, this turned into multiple "reallys," as in, "Tell mom I really really really love her, OK dad?" One night I made the mistake of proclaiming a really-count after she's conveyed the magnitude of her love for mom: "Wow, you love mom thirteen times! That's a lot!" This, of course, turned into a "really" arms race... each night's count bidding to outdo the night's before. For a while it was fun... until we got up into the 100+, 150+, and edging-at 200 marks. By that time, I was tired of counting reallys... and I decided to figure a way out.
That's when I decided to teach our four and a half year old daughter the concept of infinity. Nevermind that she won't be properly introduced to it until algebra, and even then won't appreciate its peculiarities unless she takes a higher math like calculus or set theory or whatever. I just explained it thusly, "You know Keaton, there is a thing called 'infinity.' It means the biggest number ever. No number can be bigger than it. It's the most; always." And then, "So, if you reaaally want to tell mom how much you love her, and it's reaallyy the most ever, you can just say you love her 'infinity times' and it's the biggest, most, highest number of all." So what had become a multiple-minute string of "reallyreallyreallyreally" became a much more managable, "Tell mom I love her infinity times."
Then came Cohen, and of course he got added to Keaton's love-list. But after a couple nights of, "Tell mom I love her infinity times, and tell Cohen I love him infinity times too," she asked, "Dad, does Cohen know what 'infinity times' means like I do? Does he know it's the biggest, the most?" I had to be straight with my little thinker, "No, he doesn't. He can't understand that kind of thing right now... but he definitely knows you love him by the way you play with him and talk to him and treat him nice." (Not a bad answer, if I don't say so myself). And so she changed her wording to account for poor Cohen's unenlightened mind:
"Tell mom I love her infinity times, and tell Cohen I love him infinity times but explain it to him, OK dad?"
To which I reply, "I will babe." And she's not happy until I kiss her, leave the room, and she can hear me in the distance say, "Cohen, Keaton loves you infinity times, and that means she loves you the most anyone can ever love anyone."
Awesome.
grandkid-a-palooza
Back in California and it's just as hot as Florida but with less humidity. They told me the weekend here was "like Fall" though, so I've got my hopes up for more of that.
My brother and his wife had a daughter last week, Kenley, on Sharaun's birthday. It still feels strange to think that my kid brother is a father, but it's been a fun thing to talk to him these past few days. He texted me while were in Florida saying, "This is the hardest thing I have ever done. It is completely exhausting. How do you make it look so easy?" To which I replied, after laughing, "It's never easy, but it does get easier. Welcome to selflessness." Later that day he wrote, "I broke down into tears. She wouldn't stop crying and I felt completely helpless. It is so hard." Yes... yes it is. Man... I remember breaking down into tears myself during a couple particularly difficult instances with Keaton. I empathized with the whole feeling helpless thing, having been there many times and not being able to help the baby or my overworked wife.
For our part, we've settled fairly well into a "two kid" routine, although maybe it's unfair to say having been traveling for a week. Sharaun's early breastfeeding woes have been erased by time and conditioning and we're both used to the nighttime routine. Luckily for us Keaton is a heavy sleeper and doesn't wake up when Cohen cries to alert Sharaun that he's hungry (lucky for us he's not much of a crier to begin with). Cohen's been spending a little more time awake over the past week, not sure if it's related to all the stimulation of Florida or just that he's growing up (10lbs 3oz, as a matter of fact - most of it testicles, in the Davis tradition), but it's nice to see his eyes and watch his aimless facial expressions. I could (and have) stared down at him for an hour.
I think it's time to go to bed. It's late and I want to go to the gym before work. Goodnight.
daddy-daughter hiking
Tuesday and the week plods along.
If you're caught up to yesterday's entry you know that I don't feel like I spent near enough time away from work to "bond" with my newly larger family. I did, however, use what time I had wisely. I tried to spend purposeful time with both Keaton and Cohen. However, since time with Cohen chiefly amounts to napping together on a couch, I'll share here about some daddy-daughter time that Keaton and I had last week.
We joined a friend and his son (also a good friend of Keaton's) on a hike to a local waterfall. We left early and grabbed breakfast along the way and had a gorgeous day for some fun in the water, sight-seeing, hiking and even some basic four-year-old-compatible rock scrambling. Keaton was a champ, and followed my instructions well, practicing safe climbing during the hairiest parts of the short ~200ft ascent. She did slip on some decomposed granite a couple times, once falling enough to scrape her calve before I could pull her up (we had a strict "always hold daddy's hand while climbing" policy for just this reason). Here are some pictures of the expedition (please excuse the sasquatch escorting her):
We spent more than a few hours wandering around, wading, and enjoying creation. And in the end Keaton was immensely proud of herself for making the haul to the top (we were proud of both the kids, as they both did really well on the little outing). In fact we talked about getting them each a "climbing" or "hiking" badge ala Scouts or something to tout their new experience (maybe I'm not properly conveying the amount of pride they each felt in their efforts... but it was a big deal for them both).
I've been making regular trips back to that waterfall in my head at my desk this week...
Later.
all this for eight hours of that
Mmmmgrrph... stupid back to everything normal. Here goes.
It's Sunday afternoon and there's a tight spot in my chest and an thinness to my attentions; it's a mild sense of dread. Not an excited dread either, like being poised at the apex of a roller coaster or dropping in on a big wave. No it's a dread-dread, in the Websters sense, and it's because I return to work tomorrow. This time with family has been perfect and I don't want it to end. The feeling is compounded with the fact that there are at least two, if not more, difficult issues waiting for me to be dealt with once I'm back. Being away from work with those things looming made the time even more sweet, but now coming back looms doubly with the weight of them. O but Lord I don't want to go back!
But let's stay away from the drudgery and keep things positive. All things in the world of our new four-person archetypal American family unit are going well. Cohen seems to have picked up the "great baby" torch passed along be his big sister Keaton, and is super low-maintenance - only waking us twice at night for feeding (one late feeding before bedtime for mom and dad, one in the dead of the still of the night, and one right around sunrise). He doesn't fuss (yet), doesn't spit-up (yet), eats well and sleeps well. His beef-jerky belly button fell of without fanfare last week and he's already recovered much of the birthweight he lost in those first few days.
Just as Keaton before him, he was an instant source of joy for me; the kid shines with some magical sheen I can get lost in - some aura that I can stare into for hours. They are so precious, new babies. I wondered, before he was born, how he'd "impact" the strong feelings and ties I have to Keaton - our firstborn. Wondered if my attentions or passions would be split or multiplexed or somehow diminished. Seems so silly now, it just adds together in heaps... you fill this huge space you didn't even know you had. My heart swelled the moment the slimy ruddy little man broke free and screamed from his toothless little mouth, and it's roomier for each yawn and gurgle and startle. The love I have for Keaton is the love I have for my big, four-and-a-half year old girl. For Cohen my newborn boy. Apples and oranges yet both innate and instinctive.
So anyway I'm depressed about having to go back and trade all this for eight hours of that.
Goodnight.
t-minus fourteen days
Another week wanes.
Been working on the half best-of 2010 list, the bit o' crazy in me that is trying to "get things done" before the baby comes wants to have that piece written and posted soon. Yes, somehow hitting my blog commitments is important to me, even though these "commitments" have been made to no one, and no one aside from me cares. So I wrote some of that this evening... you always have to listen to the records you're writing about as you write them, it's the only way to be objective.
Speaking of the baby, today is the 24th of June and Cohen is supposed to come on the 8th of July. By my math that's exactly fourteen days. Fourteen days! How did this happen so quickly? Where did the time go? How did my wife's belly get this astoundingly large? And yes I'll acknowledge that due-dates aren't 100% - but the human gestation period is pretty consistent. Sometimes I imagine what it would be like if it were less so. What if term for a "normal" pregnancy was much less predictable, varying by months instead of weeks? Man that would be tough. "When's your kid coming, Dave?" "Uhh... looking like sometime between July and October." Thankfully that forty week average is pretty consistent.
Fourteen days. That's ridiculously soon.
I am beginning to feel significantly un-ready for this. In fact I should stop writing now and do something to prepare.
Goodnight.
sore muscles, family, & fruit
Tuesday and I haven't worked yet this week. That's my kind of Monday.
This weekend Doug and I left our pregnant wifes at home and spent two nights in Yosemite valley. It was a quick trip, giving us just one full day in the park, but the plan was to somehow find a "workaround" for the new trail permitting system the park has implemented for Half Dome climbers and summit Sunday. When we made our reservations over a year ago, there was no permit requirement for the cable ascent, and we've always been able to just go and summit. And by the time we learned of the new requirements the permits for this weekend had already sold out. So, we were apparently stuck.
My idea, however, was to go find out just how high you could climb sans permit. A couple questions to rangers and I learned that the permits are truly just to limit cable traffic (not Mist or Muir trail traffic to Happy Isles), and that you're OK going as far as Sub Dome with a permit. This means you can post up right there in the saddle below the cables and wait for law-abiding permitted people to chicken out (I've seen it happen many times with folks who make it that far, I'd guess it's something in the 40% of folks range). I queried two rangers and neither saw any issue with begging permits off those who'd given into fear and decided forgo the cables. So, if you're willing to be a permit-vulture I think you could make a permitless day-ascent pretty easily.
But, I didn't think the plan through until it was too late and we had already decided to just to a morning hike to the top of Nevada Falls. Even then we were asked three times by permit-checking roving rangers (I don't think I imagined their heightened presence over years past) if we planned on summiting. So even though we didn't summit, the hike was amazing (as it always is), the weather was fantastic, and the barbecue dinner along the Merced later that afternoon with friends was a perfect cap to the day.
The only thing missing from our Father's Day was our wives and progeny.
As an added weekend bonus, about a third of the fruit on the plum tree was ready to pick before we left for Yosemite, so we grabbed that this evening with the help of the ladder.
Pictures.
Goodnight.
avian hideaway
What a beautiful Wednesday morning. All that much more since I'm sitting on the couch at 7:30am drinking coffee, not even thinking about going into work.
Yesterday was a workday around the house. Sharaun and her mom painted Cohen's room while her dad and I worked on installing the mounting hardware (some custom creation of mine) for the A/V shelf in the front room. Made from scratch, it's going to be a real homespun creation, but with the help of some folks more knowledgeable than I in the carpentry area it should be a fine finished product.
Meanwhile, the work Sharaun and her mother did has the baby's room looking right official. I will admit, as long as you all promise not to dime me out to my wife, that because we're reusing Keaton's white furniture the room has a somewhat "softer" feel than perhaps would a more "hardcore" baby-boy's room... but I'm not concerned. The masculinity I'll surely pass along to baby Cohen will surely be enough raw manhood to overpower the influence of any powder-blue walls or white furniture. With his hairy baby chest and deep baby voice he'll hardly even notice the birds instead of trucks on his bedding. No, I'm not concerned.
There is a family of birds who are living up under the eaves of our house, right at the corner of the garage where I can watch them through the front window. I keep meaning to evict them. I know they'll poop on everything and lay stinky eggs and leave a huge mess. But it's interesting to me where they've chosen to build their house. I have a penchant for tucked-away quarters: sleeper cabs, hollow trees (man the formatting on that ancient entry is hideous), caves, anything like that - so I sort of have a weird respect for this avian hideout. Those birds have it made. Sheltered from the weather and predators (although I'm not sure what predators they have to be wary of), using my structure as their own, etc.
I'm still going to flush them out and put chicken wire over their access... but y'know, much respect to 'em.
Good morning.
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