Letters to Holly

Wednesday, November 3

Daddy Time

The evening was deliberate.

As soon as I got home, Your Sister pointed out some bottles of milk and offered the deputy to be fed when I was ready. The offer was not snippy or forced. She set the tone immediately, and all seemed well. She wanted me to have the most opportunity to be a dad. I appreciated it. I don't think either of us expected him to drink so much that night though.

I gave him one bottle's worth and moved him to the play mat with dangling animals. He's learning to intentionally reach and grab. His aim is wonky, but he's getting there. No matter how good he gets with that, I don't see his arm strength catching up to that of his legs. I don't think my arm strength can catch up to his legs.

Around 7, he started to get noisy, and I began the bedtime routine. He still won't let me read to him, but he'll happily chug milk while I hum along with Pandora. And that's exactly what we did. He drank himself into sleep within 20 minutes, and I knew he'd wake up before long. Half an hour later, he did, and more milk and music ensued. I probably walked two miles within that room as I held him after feedings. Each time he would nod off, I'd attempt to set him in the crib, and he'd fully wake up and want to interact. I scooped him up, hummed some more, and we repeated this about three times. He was dry, he was full of milk, he was not too hot or cold. He just wouldn't sleep. After the fourth time and an hour later, I threw in the towel (gently, quietly) and let him have the recommended 15 minutes of cry time to see if he'd settle. He didn't.

I changed him and gave him more milk, and by now he'd swilled 15 ounces. That's a record. I set him down again, and Your Sister offered to come into the game as a closer. I stepped aside (gently, quietly), and she had no better luck. She suggested he was scared to be alone and wanted to be held. She tried that and got another earful when she set him down. We gave him another 15 minutes, and he finally conked out as we started our late supper.

A few hours later, I changed his not-surprisingly packed diaper and changed him into a sleep bag. I held him for one song off Pandora, and he was out cold. I set him down with no problem, satisfied I had worked my shift like a proper father should. I do suspect he was unaccustomed to this and didn't understand that he was supposed to sleep.

Almost all the ironwork is up on the deck, and we have an estimate for the new carpeting. Progress is progressing. We watched the primetime election coverage for some hours after supper but called it a night before we heard anything about the Western states. I woke up this morning to restrained Republican commentary, and the onus is on the successful Tea Party candidates to live up to the rhetoric. They have to drastically eliminate spending without compromising with the larger caucuses.

Picture of the Day
Dig the shoes.

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