First Haircut

Before:

During:

*Despite the cries, no children were actually hurt in the making of this video.

After:

Showing The Love

Roll Over Beethov, um, Oliver

Happy Easter!

Practice…

For the real thing!

The bunny was made from a FREE pattern from Wee Wonderfuls.

Fulfilling Civic Duty

I was on call for Jury Duty the week of March 10-14. In Los Angeles County what that entails is calling every evening (Sunday through Thursday), enter your juror number and a pin to find out if your group has to report to the jury pool the next day.

My first four phone calls resulted in me being told my the mechanical voice that I did not have to report for jury duty.

Of course, the last night, Thursday, I forgot to call until about 12:30am (when I was up trying to get Oliver to sleep (before sleep training)). And of course, as my luck would have it, I indeed had to report for jury duty the next day. At 7:45am.

In order to ‘report for jury duty’ a juror has to park his or her car at the Disney Concert Hall (usually on P7) and walk over to the assigned courthouse (in my case, the Clara Shortridge Foltz Criminal Justice Center), about 5 blocks away. Then you have to wait in the incredibly long line to get through the metal detectors. Then you have to wait in the incredibly long line to get onto an elevator and make your way to the 11th floor.

Thankfully, I tend to be a bit anal about being on time (and I’m a very fast walker!) so I did make it to the 11th floor by 7:45am.

And then I waited.

And waited.

And waited (there was some direction-giving by various people during some of this time).

Finally, just before lunch (again, my luck), my name was called and I was told to report to the 13th floor, along with 54 other potential jurors, after lunch for jury selection.

So at 1:30pm, the other 54 detainees potential jurors and I report to the 13th floor to wait outside the appropriate courtroom (which they call “department”).

And we waited.

And we waited some more.

Then, finally at around 3pm, we were called into the courthouse, where the Judge Judy Wannabe informed us that she had another jury currently in deliberation in the Jury Room.  Because said jury was requesting some clarifications about the case they were deliberating, she could not begin our jury selection because she needed to attend to them. So instead of having us wait out in the hall to begin selection, she told us we could go home.

Until Monday morning.

Yes, even though she wasn’t going to use us and even though all of us had been on call all week, we still had to report back to begin the jury selection on Monday at 10:30am.

(A word about the wise use of time in our court system: they don’t use it wisely! We were instructed to report most every day at 10:30am, at which point we were typically made to wait until 10:45am, then we’d get down to business until 12:00pm, then be dismissed for lunch until 1:30pm, and then do business until 4pm. That 4 hours of productivity IF we actually started on time, which we normally didn’t!!! It was infuriating, at least on my part.)

When we reported back and after waiting out in the hallway, we were herded into the courtroom by the bailiff.

Jury selection consisted of the judge calling out twelve randomly assigned jurors (by the last 4 digits of our juror number) and asking them to sit in the jurors’ box. She then asked them a series of questions, including where they live, marital status, number of children, occupation of all adults living in the house, prior jury service and whether that service resulted in a verdict, and finally, any experiences of being a victim to or witnessing a crime.

Once those were done, she’d follow-up with case-specific questions which included the whether or not they or someone they know had personal experience with cocaine, whether or not they or someone they know had ever had a child removed due to allegations of child endangerment or abuse, and whether or not they or someone they know had worked for any crime enforcement agency.

She asked these questions of EVERY.SINGLE.POTENTIAL.JUROR.

Once she was done, the Prosecution and the two defense attorneys (there were two defendants, both with their own lawyer) went through their own series of questions, including the very annoying defense attorney who asked EVERY.SINGLE.POTENTIAL.JUROR. whether or not he/she was open to the idea that a law enforcement officer may lie when giving testimony.  Talk about giving away your game plan.

After the lawyers were done, the judge would alternate and give each side (of which there were three) the opportunity to excuse a potential juror.

When a potential juror was excused, a new potential juror was called from the pool and the questioning started again.

This repeated FIFTY THREE times!

Guess who sat through FIFTY TWO (two and a three-quarter days!) of this and was selected on the FIFTY THIRD time?

Yes, ME!

But just in case you think, “Oh good, at least there will be something productive that comes out of this for you Frank.”

Oh no! I was chosen to be Alternate Juror #1 (of 1).

So after sitting through the juror selection and then just over two days of opening arguments, testimony, and closing arguments, my role in the grand scheme of things: to sit in the hall while the jury deliberates the case.

How’s that for fulfilling civic duty? (At least I fulfilled my civic duty, even if it wasn’t fulfilling civic duty.)

Another Letter

Dear Universe,

I am not sure if you remember me, but I am the sap who got too big for his britches new daddy who prematurely gloated at his son’s newly acquired sleeping skills.

I just wanted to update you, in the most humble and least boastful manner possible, about my son’s amazing night last night.

To give a little background: not only is he in the middle of sleep training, but his Daddy and Papa (more the former than the latter) decided to change his bedtime to an hour later to make for his impending trips to a babysitter easier on him (the baby, not the Daddy).

Despite the aforementioned double whammy, my son went to bed at about 7:20pm, albeit with a bit of whimpering and fussing, but was soon asleep by 7:30pm.

He awoke at 11:30pm (which is apparently a custom with this little guy) and was quickly and easily coaxed back into sleep.

He then awoke at, are you ready for this, 5:39AM!  Yes, as in “morning”.  (Interestingly he awoke on his stomach, apparently having turned over in the middle of the night, a skill I was unaware he possessed!)

(Sorry, that might be getting a bit boastful there, I’ll tone it down.)

Despite his success, we did keep him in his crib until 6:30am (which went far smoother than I would have imagined!) and finally got him up to get him ready for breakfast.

To clarify, I am not stating this to look like I am bragging but rather to inform you, sir or madam, about the progress of my son’s sleep training.  If I have anway made it appear like I am doing anything but informing, I would like to apologize in advance.

If you would like to speak to me further about this matter, please contact me directly (and please refrain from the passive-aggressive messages you seem to be so fond of sending).

Most humbly and respectfully yours,

Daddy

A Letter

March 17, 2008

Dear Universe,

I received your message and I understand perfectly.

No more gloating about my son’s mad skills. (Yawn)

Sincerely,

Frank

Sleep Training

Maybe it’s because I’ve never been a parent, but when I found out that babies don’t know how to go to sleep, you could have knocked me over with a father!

Babies don’t know how to go to sleep?! How crazy is that?! They sleep for the whole first few months of their lives.

But the more I’ve read (Yes, I read the books that many of you have told me to throw away. It’s part of who I am. Love me or leave me.) the more I’m coming to understand why that is.

See, in the womb, babies don’t really have to worry about getting themselves to sleep (although I’m not really sure if they ’sleep’ like we know sleep, but whatever) because they’re all scrunched up into a fetal pretzel in this nice, warm, dark ooze and surrounded by the shushing sound of their mama’s internal organs.

And when they come out, well, they’re not any of those things. It’s no longer dark. It’s not as cozy as it was in the womb. There aren’t those reassuring sounds of internal organs they heard for however long they were able to ‘hear’. None of what they’ve come to know is in this strange, bright world.

Some authors call the first three months after birth the “fourth trimester” because babies haven’t developed many of the systems they need to survive, unlike, say, most four-legged animals which can run within hours of being born. But because of their big, old heads and their mamas’ relatively small cervixs (cervixes? cervices?), they’ve gotten the boot whether they’re ready or not.

So to help during this transitional period most authors of baby books recommend swaddling the newborn to mimic the confinement of the womb. Many also suggest shushing the baby when they’re upset or to help them sleep in order to mimic the internal noises of the mother. During this time, babies can sleep almost anywhere, although most need to be soothed to sleep (pacifier, rocking, bottle/breast, etc.)

Somewhere between three and four months, babies begin to develop the skills they need to help themselves get to sleep. As with walking and talking however they need to practice these skills and may not get them right the first (dozen) times. But eventually they’ll pick it up and will be able to figure out what they need to get to sleep.

For most of the time (with the exception of one, poorly-decided night which I’ll blame on sleep deprivation), Oliver has been swaddled and helped asleep. But the last few days (both during the night and during the day), Joan, My Partner, and I have noticed that he was really fighting being swaddled. In addition, we’d no sooner lay my sleeping angel into his crib than he’d wake up and get so wound up we’d have to start the process all over again.

So, we all thought (we parent in a democracy at Chez Frank) maybe he was ready to learn to put himself to sleep.

So, armed with my dog-eared, highlighted, and otherwise well-read books, we started Oliver’s sleep training today.

(And to be honest, I was afraid to do it. After listening to My Love cry for an hour that aforementioned night, I think I may have been scarred or something. Shame on you, Daddy!)

Anyway, as his second nap approached (the first nap had come and gone with little sleep. Papa isn’t nearly as efficient or effective as Daddy! ), I laid him in his crib and leaned over for our little man-to-little-man talk/cuddling (I have video I’ll put up if I can figure this gadget out!), then I picked him up, closed his drapes, gave him his pacifier, and sat down in the rocker to read him, “Time For Bed.”

When the book was over, I turned off the lamp and rocked him for a minute. At which point he begins to fuss and whimper. I lay him in his bed and say, “Good night. Have a good nap.” And walk out of the room, close his door, and set my iPhone for 5 minutes.

Then I pace nervously in the next room.

For 5 minutes he cried.

I go in after 5 minutes but don’t say a word. I put my hand on his stomach and then do a little shushing in his ear. He calms down a bit at which point I again leave his room.

I again set my iPhone for 5 minutes and pace while he cries a bit stronger this time.

When my phone beeps, I go back in and repeat the hand on stomach/shushing routine. He calms down and this time he starts sucking on his hand.

PROGRESS!

Leave the room, set iPhone for 5 minutes and pace as he cries a little softer this time (but still cries).

By this time my resolve is laying in a puddle at my feet and I debate just picking the poor little guy up and doing what we’ve always done. But somewhere in my mind I hear, “Babies have to practice getting themselves to sleep.” So I give it one more try. But this time I turn him on his left side (which is how I’ll often find him in the middle of the night when I’ve awoken from a deep sleep and fear the worst because he didn’t wake up at his regular time in the middle of the night crying!) and prop him up with his favorite quilt that Gramma Joansy made him.

Leave the room, set my iPhone, and pace. But wait, what do I hear?

NOTHING!

He fell asleep almost instantly! And continued to sleep for almost an hour!

Third nap we repeat the nap routine and put him in his bed. He cries for 5 minutes, I go in and make sure he’s alright and to reassure him. He falls asleep instantly and this time sleeps for nearly 2 hours (an all-time record for me although Auntie Kathy swears he slept for 3 hours for her!)

Fourth nap was in the car so that doesn’t count.

Then for bedtime tonight, mostly the same routine with the addition of a bottle, then a bath and a baby massage.

He cries for 5 minutes but this time it’s more of a quacking sound (I really have to get that on video; it’s a hoot. Definitely something to embarrass the kid with when he’s older!). Go in after 5 minutes, calm him down and before I close the door, I swear the kid is asleep!

Now, the doubters among you will say three times does not a pattern make.

But to you I say (touching wood first), “My kid is BRILLIANT and he’s got this whole sleep training thing DOWN!”

Edited to Add: My kid really does have this whole sleep training thing down!  Last night he woke at 11:30 and cried for 5 minutes before going back to sleep (I had to go in and get him resituated).  Then he woke at 1:30am for his bottle and after a few minutes of quacking was back to sleep.  He woke at around 4:30am and this time quacked for a few minutes and went back to sleep until 6:12am!  I couldn’t believe it.  I feel more rested than I’ve felt in, well, 6 weeks!

Then, after his morning bottle and hour spent with Daddy and Papa, he went down for a nap without a peep!  And proceeded to sleep for 2 hours and 10 minutes (interrupted only by Daddy going in to check on him to make sure he was breathing!)!

Can I Ask A Favor?

Watch this, please.

And then go here and take action.

I need you to do this. My family needs you to do this.

5 Weeks!

I don’t remember if I told you all the story of when Oliver arrived and I’m too lazy busy to go back and check.

We were told that our social worker (HH has since been replaced.  See, there is/are a God/Gods!) would pick Oliver up from the foster home where he was staying at around 4 pm.  Since it was in a suburb of Los Angeles and given Los Angeles traffic, she had planned for it to take about 1.5-2 hours to drive into Los Angeles.  So we were planning for them to arrive around 6pm.

I had taken half a day off to run a couple of errands (my last haircut before parenthood!) and had planned to be home with plenty of time to spare.  My Partner had planned accordingly as well and thought he would have been home prior to their arrival (did anyone get the foreshadowing?).

So I left work at noonish and went to get my hair cut.  That took longer than expected because my stylist was finishing a haircut for her previous client (who, ironically, had her 8-week old baby (Oliver was 8-weeks old when he came home to us) with her in the salon!).  I left without having my hair dried for fear I wouldn’t get my other errands done.

Then on the way home I did a couple of fast errands and finally stopped at the car wash ($1 wash on Tuesdays!) to wash my car (I was imagining at the time that I wouldn’t be able to do that with Oliver, for fear that he wouldn’t like the noise, leaving him in the unattended car, etc.  Turns out, he loves noise.).

I had no sooner gotten my money (when it’s $1 wash, I splurge and put in $4 so I get my car really clean) into the machine when my phone rings.  It’s a number I don’t recognize but I answer anyway (which I normally don’t do; a remnant from my college years/bill collector-calling days).

It was a bit before 4pm and it ended up being our social worker calling to say she had picked up Oliver early and was en route to our house.  She also started to tell me about a doctor’s appointment he had the next day, including details and asking if I could call to confirm and finally I had to say, “I can’t really talk right now, I’m at the car wash and I just soaped up my car.”  I’m sure that made a great impression.

So after I do a quick rinse (and leave over $2 of time for the next car!) I call her back and apologize, get the details, and find out that traffic was lighter than she had anticipated.  She figured she had about 30 minutes before she’d be at our house.

OH CRAP!

I was only a couple of miles from home, so I quickly, but safely, drive home.  I run into the house and begin to run upstairs to use the toilet.  My phone rings again.

They’re outside our house!

I haven’t gone to the bathroom!  I haven’t called My Partner to tell them they’re early!

I vaguely remember saying something to the effect of, “Oh great!  I’m so excited.  But I have to use the toilet and then I’ll be right down.”

Oh yes, I’m all about good first impressions.  First I have to finish washing my car.  Then I have to finish my duties in the toity.  I’m nothing if not self-sacrificing.

I quickly hang up and call my partner, who spazzes out because he’s stuck in traffic, to which I respond, “What do you want me to do, make them wait in the car?!”

After I’m done in the toilet (#1) I rush downstairs and open the door.  Our social worker walks in holding a car seat with a baby in it.

At first I don’t know what to do; I had fully expected to have reinforcements with me.  And a photographer (Marie)!

I invite her to set him down, which she does on one of our chairs.

I lean over the car seat and said something in my baby/animal voice and Oliver gives me his now famous grin.

And I burst into tears.

Our social worker begins recounting the details she has gleaned from the previous foster mother.  I can’t tell you what she said as I was entirely focussed on Oliver.  Luckily she had notes that she left with us.

Shortly thereafter My Partner and our friend, Marie (visiting from France) show up.  Oliver and I met him at the door and as soon as he saw him, My Partner teared up, followed quickly by me, Marie, AND our social worker (who said she’s seen this so many times that she can’t believe she’s still tearing up.  Personally I’m glad to see that she is still affected by seing a family united.)

That was 5 weeks ago (almost to the hour!)!  It’s been incredible and wonderful and amazing and tiring!  And I wouldn’t trade these last 5 weeks for anything in the world (although I may be talked out of a few cranky nights if you’re really persuasive ).