Wholly Crap

Since I've taken Zachary on our road trip to Weed he has had to exclusively eat formula. On the plus side he's starting to gain weight and fill out. He's also sleeping for 5 hour stretches at night instead of his usual 2 1/2.

There has been but one downside. One. Major. Downside.
My son now takes the largest dumps I have ever seen.

Allow me for a moment to shed some perspective on this statement. My best friend Travis and I have for years had a running competition as to who can squeeze out the largest crap. Since Travis is half again my size, I have had to settle for moral victories. But none-the-less it takes more than your average bowel movement to impress me.

Earlier today my son's bowel movement took my breath away. And I don't just mean that figuratively.

My son had not taken a dump in about 24hrs (this apparently is kind of a big deal for an infant). The entire household was experiencing a growing sense of unease. My dad would jump at the slightest sound that resembled a fart. Meanwhile, my mother had been pestering him all day long to hurry up and shit already. Lesson: Be careful what you ask for.

Later that evening, I looked down at my son and noticed a peculiar, almost strained look on his face. My stomach sank. We had gotten our wish. It was the "Big One", Mt. St. Smellens was erupting. I opened my son's diaper to find that his emission had pushed his pathetic, tiny Huggie well past it's feeble limitations. The entire backside of his jammies were completely stained and ruined.

I instantly felt a rising sense of panic. Why hadn't we prepared? Why didn't we stock up on supplies? Was there enough food in the storm cellar? I cursed my mental lapse, lack of preparation and consequent current state of emergency I had befallen. I immediately called my mother for back up. She came running into the room and the stench stopped her dead in her tracks. She did an abrupt about-face and began busying herself in the next room conveniently looking for what she claimed to be diaper wipes. Despite my protests that simple wipes would not suffice and to bring me some acetone, hydrochloric acid or better yet a blow torch, she calmly reassured me that the "Tushy Towels" would be fine.

Although skeptical, I decided to forgo argument and instead focus my attention to the giggling crap factory smiling up at me.

The seconds were dragging by like hours. My forehead beading with perspiration, I struggled in an epic battle with my 4 month old son to keep him from squirming out of my grip and spreading his hair-singeing butt-funk onto the couch and floor.

This, ultimately was a battle I lost against a far superior opponent.

I was able to rent a "Rug Doctor" carpet cleaner to get the worst out of the floors and off the walls. But my dog is definitely going to need a professionals' touch.

Anyway, as part of the sterilization process recommended by the Health Department of California we needed to bathe not just ourselves but the little bugger too. Here is some video from the bath we gave him near ground zero.

Zachary dancing to Jerry Garcia

It's a little old, but I posted it so that Zach's grandparents (John & Lyndell) had something new to watch... This video is from April 10th.

Coasting Home

Hey everybody! It's Zach's Dad Kacy. I realize that I haven't written a blog in a while and consequently I have volumes and volumes of stories to tell. But since I'm still out of town, I'm going to momentarily leave out the descriptions of the diaper-twisting awesomeness Zach and I experienced during our trip and instead simply post some shots and maybe some video I took along the way.

In short the overall experience was totally tubular. I've daydreamed about taking this trip with my son for most of my adult life and I wasn't disappointed in the least.

Zachary goes to the Aquarium

So, for Christmas, Kacy got me annual passes to the Seattle Aquarium. I aimed to get some mileage out of those passes before we move down to (blissfully sunny) San Diego.


So, we decided to take Zachary to the aquarium on a Friday afternoon.
At just 3.5 months, Zachary did great! He was generally entertained by all the colorful fish and really enjoyed the tidal wave simulation. All & all, it was looking to be a perfect day.....

Until Kacy got steamrolled by a 280 lb. runaway beer keg on our way out of the aquarium. And our house sale fell through 3 hours later.......

But hey, at least it was sunny.

Nannykins Time

At the end of May, Nannykins came up to frigid Seattle to take care of Zachary, letting mom and dad get some much needed work done (you know, the kind NOT associated with a baby) and an some extra rest too. She was missed as soon as she left as suddenly Kacy and I had to become sole caretakers again.....sigh.......

Oh, and Zachary missed her too.

Say what???

That's right. Kacy did the unthinkable. He took Zachary and Kona all on a road trip to California all by himself. Let me make the enormity of this task clear: Zachary has a tendency to shriek for HOURS in a car seat and Kona howls along with him in a panic. Five minutes of these shenanigans is enough to get anyones panties in a bunch. But 13 hours? Was this really a good idea? (Disclaimer: Kacy is going "Lesley, it was YOUR fishbrained idea!!!")

But why stop there? Instead of taking the straight shot down the I-5 to get it over with as quick as possible (as I suggested), Kacy decided to take my bad idea and run with it.

He decided to take the "scenic route". Yep. Traveling down Highway 101 and several obscure and even more curvy roads all the way into California.

Now, in typical Kacy fashion, his intentions were golden. I'm sure that Kacy had visions of himself skipping through the magnificant rainforests and redwood groves found along the 101 with one very amazed and enchanted Zachary looking on in delight.

But also, in typical Kacy fashion, things did not go according to plan. After all, why settle for miserable when you can have hell?

Kacy left Tuesday morning bright and chipper. Eight hours later I decided to give him a call.

Me: "Hey, how's it going?"

Kacy: "WHAT?" WHAAAAAAA WHAAAAAA WHAAAAA WHAAAAA

Me: "HOW IS IT GOING???"

Kacy: "I CAN BARELY HEAR YOU! YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE TO SHOUT!!"

Me: "JESUS! HOW IS IT GOING?!"

Kacy: "Oh, Zach has been pretty uspet." UGGGGGG WHAAAAA UGGGGHHHH WHAAAAA

Me: "How long has that been going on for?"

Kacy: "2 hours 23 minutes and 35 seconds."

Me: (as I sit in my blissfully quiet house leisurely sipping wine while reading gossip columns) "Bummer".

Kacy: "Yeah... and the dog is wigging out too....and I've had too much caffeine." WHAAAAAAA WHAAAAAA WHAAAAA WHAAAAA

Me: "What do you think is wrong with him?"

Kacy: "HellifIknowHedoesn'twanttoeatHisdiaperiscleanandhe'sbeenburped." UGGGGGG WHAAAAA

Me: (trying to change the subject) "So, did you get to see any rainforests?"

Kacy: "Yeah"

Me: "Well, how was it?"

Kacy: "Zach screamed the whole time. Ruined it for everyone within two miles. Oh, and the dog got drenched. So now the entire car smells like wet dog."
.....

And so it went. Three days later, Kacy did make it into California in a state of stupor with Zachary and Kona. Zachary has recovered nicely and is all smiles again. Kacy is still sleeping. :)

Beginning of a laugh

At just three months, Zachary began to laugh in short bursts. Eager to capture his laugh on film, Kacy and I began experimenting with various actions that might get him to laugh on cue. Unfortunately, there was only one thing that he consistently found hilarious.....hitting mommy. Probably not a good association to be teaching him......

Also note his uncanny resemblance to this Return of the Jedi character.

EVERYBODY PANIC!!!

This morning I heard the following public announcement on a local NPR news broadcast:

(quote taken directly from NPR weather watches and warnings)

SEVERE WEATHER ADVISORY
THE HOTTEST DAY ON THE PACIFIC COAST WILL BE TODAY...WHEREAS THE INTERIOR WILL WARM SEVERAL MORE DEGREES ON SATURDAY. EXPECT HIGHS ON THE COAST TO BE IN THE 70S ON SATURDAY WHILE THE INTERIOR WILL BE MAINLY IN THE LOWER 80S. SOME LOCALES HOWEVER IN THE EAST PUGET SOUND LOWLANDS AND CASCADE VALLEYS WILL HAVE TEMPERATURES IN THE MID 80S.

DURING HOT SPELLS...DRINK PLENTY OF WATER...AVOID OVER EXERTION... LIMIT TIME SPENT IN DIRECT SUNLIGHT...AND CHECK UP ON ELDERLY RELATIVES OR NEIGHBORS. ALSO...PROTECT PETS FROM THE DANGERS OF HOT WEATHER. NEVER LEAVE THEM IN A PARKED CAR ON A HOT DAY.

The hell? Did we just get a weather warning for 70 degree weather?

At first I thought they had to be joking (broadcasters around here have a great sense of humor) but as I took my walk this morning people were in fact stumbling about while squinting at the strange yellow orb in the sky and looking a bit scared. Mothers were hastily applying SPF 50 to their childrens' faces or simply ushering them back to the safety of indoors.

That's it. I've had it. People up here are just friggin weird.

Now don't get me wrong, I love Seattle. The city and it's weather. I truly enjoy rain. Always have. But these people don't just have an unnatural affinity to grey skies, they actually DESPISE the sun. I've read that heliophobia occurs in less than .001% of the population, if that's true, then every single one of them lives in the Pacific North West.

But before any of you smug San Diegans even chuckle at this idiocy, let me remind you of the severe storm warning we had a few years ago down there for a quarter inch of rain that fell over the course of 6 days and the subsequent panic, confusion and general mayhem it caused on every road, freeway and biking trail in the region.

Anyway, my son and I decided to take advantage of the heat wave and do some gardening. I dug a pair of dusty shorts out of storage and headed outside. I could sense my neighbors peering at us through the blinds of their windows in what must have been shocked disbelief that I would so recklessly expose my infant son to the elements. I'll probably be getting a visit from child services any minute now.

Pissed

I have come to the conclusion that my son either hates me or has a twisted sense of humor. Based on the expression on his face in the following video, I will assume it's the latter.

Bringing Out the Mother Bear

Kacy decided it was high time that I write a blog entry, if for no other reason than to dispel the notion that Kacy was a closeted single father who invented me. :)

My maternal instincts are unnaturally absent. This is highlighted by my illogical phobia of Infant apparel. While most pregnant women are cooing over all the cute baby clothes and paraphernalia, I drive my mom and mother-in-law to Babies R Us, but then sat in the car while they went shopping. In fact, it took me 7 months into my pregnancy before I would even approach the Infant section of Target, and even then I lasted all of about 23 seconds before panicking and running to the comfort of the Home Furnishings Department. While other women were patting their bellies with smug looks on their faces, I looked at others enjoying a fine bottle of wine with pea green envy.

Indeed, I began to think that I was somehow deficient, that I would not be a good mother, and that I would not feel a connection with my son. Why couldn't I get "into" this whole baby thing?

Several books later, I was assured that not feeling connected to your baby right away was normal. And by "right away", the books meant several hours to even a week or two. By then, the books confidently claimed, the mommy hormones would kick in and magically transform me into a transfixed and devoted mother.

Nine weeks postpartum, I was convinced that an undetected autoimmune disease had destroyed my mommy hormone producing glands. Oh sure, I half-heartedly cooed at him and changed his diaper willingly, and fed him when Kacy would patiently remind me that my son had been screaming for last 20 minutes. But, all of it felt surreal. In fact, most of my thoughts about Zachary had more to do with wondering when he was going to stop crying and let me get some sleep or go back to work than ooohing and aaahhhing over how precious he was. The only real progress that I made was I had upped my time in the Target Infant section to just over 2 minutes.

Enter: Annie Olsen-Ealy, Zachary's babyphile godmother. As previous blogs indicated, Annie is magical with babies and actually enjoys all that "lets dress the baby up" stuff. So, one day I came home from work to find Zachary dressed up in this lime green Disney "Pooh Bear" outfit. I'm not exactly sure how it happened, but foreign words left from my mouth before I could stop them...."Ohhhh, he is adorable" I cooed.... .

And I was transformed, into a mother, for realsies.

For the first time ever, I actually snatched my baby from another person's arms (which, when that person is Annie, is no easy feat!) for the simple pleasure of wanting to stare at my beautiful son and adore him.

Now the logical person asks: What is it about dressing a baby up as a bear that makes them so freakin adorable? I'm not sure, but it certainly brought this mother bear out of hibernation.

Spermatogenesis

The following is a poem I wrote as a joke for Lesley while she was preparing a lecture for her Anatomy and Physiology class. To my surprise, she thought it was good enough to show her students. To my further surprise, they actually liked it. Now the poem has been published in a magazine and I can't help but feel a little proud. But since it was originally intended just to get a chuckle from Lesley, I admit I'm a bit embarrassed. If I had known that it was going to get this much attention, I would have put more effort into it.

Anyway, for publication I was asked to change the title. I decided to go with a suggestion from one of Lesley's students and thus "The Making of Z-Dub" was born. Enjoy.


"The Making of Z-Dub"

Spermatogenesis occurs within the balls!
Where spermatogonia undergo mitosis on seminiferis walls

On the lumen side, both day and night
Mitosis creates a spermatocyte

Meiosis is needed to create spermatids
But they're still not ready to make kids

For acrosomal caps, bake for 5 weeks (at 96 degrees)
And get flagellar tails for swimming ease

It's now a full grown spermatozoon
Next, mix with semen for proper flowin'

To the seminiferous tubule it goes!
Tis' but the FIRST step to your parenting woes

The Baby Whisperer

Zachary turned 2 months old the other day. To celebrate this mind blowing achievement we made cupcakes and let him watch us eat them. As if that by itself wasn't enough awesome for one day, Zach also got to take a trip to the doctors office for his Monthly check-up. During which he got no less than 4 shots.

Now, I've worked with needles my entire professional career. Therefore the notion of my son getting a couple tiny pricks shouldn't have bothered me. But when I watched the nurse jab what had to be a 12 gauge rusty chunk of blunt scrap metal into my baby's leg, I almost passed out. The nurse then tells me that the shots can cause some "fussiness" over the next few days. Her advice was to stock up on baby Tylenol, ear plugs and liquor. I chuckled at what I assumed was a joke.

24hrs later, I can assure you she wasn't joking.... and I'm out of booze.

Enter Annie Olsen Ealy: The Baby Whisperer.

Annie, a very close friend of the family whom I've known since she was born, likes babies. I mean, she REALLY likes babies. In fact, the word "like" is such an embarrassing understatement of her liking babies that I'm only using it here for comical purposes. Not only does she like babies, but babies undeniably like her right back. A baby in Annie's' arms is akin to a painter holding a brush or a sculptor working with a chisel... there's something just right about it. Watching Annie magically soothe a baby is similar to watching any master work their craft. Mesmerizing.

Anyway, we have had the honor of Annie acting as a live-in Nanny for the past few days and we are hoping we can convince her to stay as long as she can. Now I can finally get to being productive and do some cleaning, gardening, cooking, packing and a mountain of other chores that need to be seen to. That is, of course, once I'm done checking my email, watching the basketball game and I finish taking my 3rd bubble-bath of the day.

Mr. Mom

I can't say I'm a soldier for the Cause, but I admit I'm becoming a little irritated by the number of people who infer that I'm just filling in for Momma. We all know the culture dictates that caregivers be female, while the daddies are out hunting and gathering and scratching our asses. Still, is it so odd to see a man at the playground giving his kid's nose a wipedown?

It's also widely assumed that men can't hack it as hands-on parents. The other day I overheard one mom lamenting her daughter's outfit: "Her father dressed her this morning." As if to imply that it's a miracle he didn't diaper the girls' head.

Honestly, this Stay-At-Home-Dad (what Mothers like to call SAHD) buisness ain't so bad at all. Besides, if I did actually have a job to go back to, I'd just be spending a lot of time prying my cheek off a drool-soaked keyboard and watching the clock wondering how much longer until I got to be reunited with my bed (and wife and kid, of course).

Granted, it's not always flowers and sunshine. The other day my wife and I had a fight that hinged on the finer points of mild vs. medium cheddar cheese, and I behaved like a pathetic, self-absorbed jackass. Try as I might to be Super Benevolent Wonder Dad, a little sleep deprivation always exposes my inner thug.

And by the way: I dressed my son this morning. The white cotton onesie was both physically flattering (by accentuating his fair complexion and broad shoulders) and of ideal weight for his on-the-go summer lifestyle. So any mom who thinks I can't take care of my kid is cordially invited to Bite Me.

Nap time- the new happy hour

Recently, I jokingly suggested to my wife using blatant feigned chivalry, that she get some much needed rest while I take "the late shift" with the baby. She quickly accepted my offer as the words were still leaving my tongue. Clearly, she didn't know I was kidding. But when I pointed out her understandable error, she simply smiled and changed the subject by saying something about owning a gun. Anyway, it appeared my attempt at humor had backfired and I was in for a late night.

I immediately began to prepare for the event. Specifically I started to consume copious amounts of caffeine. Now many of you may or may not know that I don't drink coffee. But I DO drink soda- lots and lots of soda. It was currently 9pm and "the late shift" officially begins at midnight and runs till around 3am. So I had roughly 3 hours to establish an i.v. drip of Pepsi One inserted via catheter into a decent sized vein. Long story short, let me simply say that I drank quite a bit. That is a momentous statement coming from someone such as myself. To put things into perspective, I've been known to drink up to 4 liters of soda in one day. So it is possible (as suggested by my bowels that evening) that I was pushing the Maximum Tolerated Dose.

Once I was feeling properly drugged, I whisked my child up into my arms and told Lesley something along the lines of, "DontworryIvegotitfromhereyoujustrelaxandgotobed". For some reason, she all of a sudden didn't seem to keen on the idea and she suggested that perhaps she should take the boy after all. I gently and calmly reassured her that I had it under control and asked "Whatstheworstthingthatcouldhappen?" With a perplexed look on her face, Lesley acquiesced to my cold, unflappable logic and went to bed.

The following is a brief recap of the events that took place during that shift:

12:00am- Zach is sleeping peacefully. I am confidant in my abilities as a father. I pick up a book and start to read.

12:02- Zach is screaming. I put down the book. He doesn't want to eat. I assume its gas and try to burp him.

12:06- Zach is screaming. It wasn't gas. I'm now considering force feeding him because I'm sure that is what his problem is.

12:07- Zach is screaming. Force feeding only made him more pissed. I attempt to change his diaper, hoping that will shut him up

12:08- Zach is screaming. I knock over his bottle while wiping crap off the walls in between looking for a fresh diaper liner and rubbing my temples.

12:10- Zach is screaming. I change out of my urine soaked shirt and put Zach in a fresh set of Jammies.

12:11- Zach is screaming. Zach immediately barfs as I put him on the shoulder of my clean shirt.

12:14- Zach is screaming. I can hear Zach soil his clean diaper from the other room as I'm changing into a fresh shirt.

12:31- Zach is screaming. I begin to curse Lesley since this is obviously her fault... she probably ate spicy food or something

12:45- Zach is screaming. I try singing to him.

12:46- Zach is screaming. I give up trying to sing because neither of us can hear me anyway.

1:07- Zach is screaming. I begin to have evil thoughts.

1:22- Zach is screaming. I want to shake him like an English Nanny.

1:45- Zach is screaming. He barfs on me again. I am fairly certain it was on purpose. I don't even bother to change shirts now.

2:01- Zach is screaming. I am defeated. I am curled up in the corner humming nursery rhymes to myself.

2:45- Zach is screaming. I am beginning to question my grasp on reality.

3:03- Zach is screaming. Lesley walks into the nursery room to find me curled up in the fetal position in the center of the floor, soaked in barf and what may or may not be my son's urine.

3:04- Zach is sleeping peacefully in his mothers arms. I pick myself up off the floor and tell Lesley that it was a piece of cake and she needs any pointers she knows where to find me

3:05- I fall asleep before my head hits the pillow and lay comatose for 6 hours.

Here is a video I shot just this morning around 5 am just after another visit from the whaambluance.

Easter

On March 10th I packed three changes of clothes along with my wife, kid and the dog into the family car to embark on what was supposed to be a quick jaunt down to Weed and San Jose. Little did I know that our short trip south would turn into a 21 day epic journey that I won't soon forget. In between non-stop visits from family and friends, a funeral, a life threatening surgery and literally hundreds of diaper changes, I noticed that my kid wasn't as small as he used to be. All I remember is handing this tiny little baby bundle over to Grandma...



The next time I held my son was about 2 weeks later.



I picked him up and was amazed at how heavy he was. I looked down and saw a totally different person in my arms than I expected to be holding. Now, don't get me wrong, my son still clearly possessed my stunning good looks, dashing smile and quick charming wit, but he was somehow different from what I remembered. Specifically, he looked to be about 3 inches longer and he felt about 2 lbs heavier (to be fair, I had held him every day, it's only that it was typically around 3am and I must have been in a sleep induced stupor. But I digest). I felt shocked and surpized at how much my son had covertly grown right under my nose. It was an eerie, surreal sensation, kind of like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 instead of 7:30.

That said, I can't stress enough how valuable it is to have the love and support from friends and family for my son. And not just because they shower him in cool gifts that I get to play with. It truly does take a village to raise a child. Besides, if it wasn't for the unconditional support he gets from everyone (emotional and pecuniary) he'd be pretty much screwed.

link to Easter pics HERE

Homecomings

By the time Lesley and Zachary were ready to be discharged from the hospital, my brain had been saturated with horror stories of non-stop colic-induced screaming fits, projectile vomit, and crap filled bathtubs. So naturally I began to wonder about hospital protocol and if they had any policy regarding inept parents. I was convinced that they would take one look at us, and (appropriately) tell us that there was no way they could legally allow retards to go home with such precious cargo. Obviously they did allow us to leave, and against our better judgment, we did.

A good friend of mine summed up this sensation perfectly while comforting my brother after the birth of his daughter, Elsa. He said to him, "For the first time in your short, pathetic, ego-centric existence, you are ENTIRELY responsible for the life of another human being". At the time, I thought he was being overly harsh. However now I can see truth and even warmth in his words. I realize that what he was doing for my brother was sharing a sacred secret hand-shake of sorts that is inherently understood among all parents;

You as an individual simply don't matter anymore. You won't care about anything, not one damn thing in the whole wide world, except your kid...and be prepared to love it.

I remember the exact moment the true nature of these words hit me. I was looking down at my son, he had been home for only a few hours. I was changing his diaper, and I believe I was literally covered up to my elbows in crap. That's when he smiled at me. SMILED. AT. ME. Honestly, in that moment my heart stopped beating, lept right out of my body and crawled into this tiny little person laying on the table in front of me. My heart belongs to him and I don't ever want it back.

I've seen this impossible event take place time and time again. My Father-In-Law, John, looked like he had been whacked on the back of his head as all of his vital organs decided to begin living for someone else. My mother (whom has experienced this sensation before) looked no more physically or emotionally fit after her first encounter either. All in all, I've seen him casually and effortlessly take the lives of no less than five unsuspecting innocent people. All of them more than happy to have fallen victim.

Link to Homecoming pics HERE

Labor

Here are a few videos of "The Labor" that my wife has agreed to let me to post on a public site. In short, she's opted to remove any that include her either A) screaming profanities, B) having an inadvertent bowel movement or C) "indecent" exposures. In other words, for those of you that are waiting for a full-frontal view of Zachary being born, I'm sorry to be the one to break your water, but it just ain't gonna happen. To everyone else, enjoy!

click HERE to see photos of labor, delivery and post-partum

The next few videos are of his first feeding and his first bath

The final push to parenthood

I guess I should have Lesley write the entry about pregnancy and Labor since she had the unique privilege of actually being the one who was pregnant. That said, from my point of view the whole ordeal was a piece of cake. Honestly, I can't see what all the commotion is about. It was however a real pain in the butt to have to keep turning up the TV when Lesley was making too much noise while vomiting in the bathroom... God, I've never been so miserable.

Seriously, we are feeling a bit overwhelmed with this blog since we clearly have quite a bit of work ahead of us. Here it is, already April and Zachary is almost two (TWO!!) months old and we're just now getting around to posting our very first blog; PREGNANCY and DELIVERY. Which will hopefully include both photos and videos.

Here are some videos of a walk Lesley and I took on her due date trying to to instigate labor

~Kacy