Minor Oversight

Max just pointed out a picture that I had meant to post but had forgotten about the past few weeks.

Roxy had only been alive for about an hour when the nurses came back in to check her weight and take her footprints. They put her on this nearby table/machine that had heat lamps rigged to the top of it so she wouldn't get cold. This was how she looked:














I stayed close by because my little girl was awfully cranky. So while the nurse was checking her stats, I happened to read the label on the table/machine they had her laying in.

This was the label:














I went ahead and did the hard part for you. I've circled the bit I had a problem with.





Let's see: Ohio Infant Warmer System. Okay, that sounds nice. I've always liked Ohio. It's not like that awful state Massachusetts. And it warms babies. That's good too. They have a "system." A system for warming babies. What could be troublesome about that?

Nothing much, really. Unless you're one of those over-reactive new parents who have a problem with an EXPLOSION HAZARD! It's like, relax, dude, by my third kid I was HOPING they'd explode!

Three! Three Cranky Women! Ah ha ha ha ha ha!

Leni: Hormonal and cranky
Max: Hormonal and cranky
Roxy: Gassy and cranky

And me? I like to pretend there are cameras filming my life for a documentary. And when the women start acting crazy, I shoot a look to the imaginary cameraman for some sympathy. Then I go put my head in oven.

That's actually where I'm writing this tonight. From my oven.

Serious.

Man vs. Baby

Roxy decided to get up around 4 AM this morning and, rather than show some consideration to the rest of the family, threw a full blown hold-your-breath-turn-purple-and-scream kind of tantrum I haven't seen since Leni got mad at me on her birthday one year and decided to flip over a few pieces of furniture as she relayed to me the details of her annoyance.

And so in the true pugilistic spirit of the day, Roxy and I are going to square off reviewing some of the things we've tried the past two days.

Item 1: The First Years Newborn Pacifier from Soothie










Me: I don't know. You have about 12 pacifiers. What's the freaking difference between this one and all of these?
Roxy: This one tastes better.
Me: Better than what? It's the exact same as this one and this one. And this one and this one. And this one. And...
Roxy: I get it. I think we can both agree it doesn't taste any better than your pinky.
Me: I'm just going to go ahead and take your word on that one.
Roxy: It doesn't have that ring on the back, which is nice.
Me: True, it doesn't have that holder ring. But you're a baby, you can't hold onto it anyway.
Roxy: Agreed. Well, is it any better for you?
Me: Partially. You tend to tolerate it longer than the others, and I think because it's hollow in the back it still feels like my finger because you can feel it through the rubber.
Roxy: Wait, wait a minute...
Me: What?
Roxy: Just hold on a minute. I thought that was your finger.
Me: That's the point.
Roxy: So you're lying to me?
Me: Lying to you? You ever see my pinky when you get through with it? It looks like Eartha Kitt in a bubble bath.
Roxy: Eartha Kitt is black.
Me: Well, I don't know anyone Purple.
[Roxy contorts her face, and then promptly wets her diaper]
Me: You did that on purpose.
Roxy: Maybe I did and maybe I didn't.

The Vote:
Me: B Roxy: A minus

Item 2: Sun Hat from Thank Heaven












Me: I think you look nice.
Roxy: Really? I don't know. I think we should have gotten the large.
Me: Oh, come on. It's not that big.
Roxy: Not that big? It's a f***ing Sombrero.
Me: It is not a Sombrero.
Roxy: Oh, okay. Me disculpo. Aliménteme, papá.
Me: Since when do you speak Spanish?
Roxy: Since we flew to Mexico to buy this goddamn hat...
Me: We did not go to Mexico. I can't even get you into your diaper much less a plane. You are so grouchy today.
Roxy: Whatever.
Me: Just rate the hat, alright?
Roxy: Rate the hat. Fine. I give it an "F." You know what else gets an "F"?
Me: You can ground babies, you know...
Roxy: Oh, let me guess, I'm not getting a pony...
Me: Keep it up, kid. Keep it up.

The Vote:
Me: A Roxy: F

Not Tonight, Ladies, It's Date Night

Leni wants to spend time with me tonight so the blog will have to wait...(You can now visualize all of the Von Trapp kids saying goodnight and heading off to bed)

And all you have to do is say "Goooooooooooooood Byyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyye!"

Even Steven

Roxy had a full-on screaming fit tonight. You can do what you can to help alleviate gas but without the ability to send a mini-rocketship inside her to combat the problem, you're at the mercy of the time it takes to pass it. And so if time is all that's needed, sweetheart, perhaps in 16 years you'll forgive me for telling everyone the following anecdote:

I awoke this morning to what sounded like a wet Harley Davidson trapped under a pile of egg noodles. Now, when I say "awoke," I mean, jolted out of bed. It was Roxy pooping in her diaper. If you can imagine loading a shotgun with tapioca pudding and firing it into a fat man's armpit, that's kind of the sound I'm talking about. Like if you could tap a fire hydrant to put out a burning building, except that the fire hose sprays under-cooked scrambled eggs, and the burning building is made out of baloney. Am I making sense here? IT WOKE ME UP!

I looked at Leni who was wearing the same horrified expression. It had woken her up as well.

In This Corner...

When my sister Gabrielle came over the other day, Roxy slept the entire time and barely cried at all. This left my sister with the mistaken impression that perhaps we might be embellishing our frustrations. Like when you end your story about how you got into a fight with some jackass at the bank and said "Next time bring a f***ing calculator!" and the person you're talking to is like "no way, did you really say that?" and you're like "yeah, totally," but you really just huffed and walked away until you got to the subway and were like "shit, I totally should have told her to bring a god-damn calculator." You know?

The point is, Gabrielle had the impression that this:














Is really this:














It isn't.

My point is, right now I'm looking into 2 different ways to free myself somewhat from the confines of our Colicky Prison. And I'm creative, a think outside of the box kind of guy, so here are my two options.

One, the last pacifier I will willingly spend money on. Leni's mom had gotten us about 9 different pacifiers, only one of which will Roxy tolerate until the full 10 seconds has elapsed and she spits it onto the floor faster than she can fill her diaper. My friend mentioned one she had success with. So, Sarah Oelkers, tonight we shall take your recommendation for a spin...and if it doesn't work I'll need your home address ;-)

But we will try the First Years Newborn Soothie Pacifier. We will try this:










And if it sucks (like I have a feeling it might), because what else is Colic if not a disappointment, we will try this:











Smooth-Sil® 940 Suitable For Food-Related Applications. It is a platinum based silicone. We will cast my pinky, make a mold, create silicone/pacifier versions of this pinky until we have enough to build an indestructable army to take OVER THE WORLD. And by "indestructable army to take over the world" I meant "something to help me get some sleep."

Seriously? Seriously...

This was my morning, and by "morning" you should use the classic definition containing the hours (plural) between 6 AM and 11 AM:


This was my mood (depicted simply with a black rectangle):















I'm sorry, I used the past tense there. My mistake.

Everything Must Go!

Leni made a kind of a "yelp" sound tonight changing Roxy's diaper. I'm not sure what I expected to find there as I made my way over, but my thoughts meandered somewhere between one of her socks (undigested and mostly intact) or some mucus-y type poop thing made out of breast milk (like a Keanu Reeves Matrix-style Golem - right after he took the blue pill...or was it the red one?)

Anyway, the cause behind her revulsion was Roxy's umbilical cord had fallen off. I don't know why Leni thought this was so disgusting. It really just looks like a big scab. Or a really little piece of jerky. Or bacon. Like if you dropped a piece of bacon on a carpet and it got fuzzles on it.

Whatever. Short story? We took Roxy to the hospital for a sonogram this morning because she might have some hip dysplasia thing that will require her wear a brace for 6 months and look like she rides side saddle. But the radiologist was hopeful that wouldn't be neccessary.

Shorter story? We've found things that combat her crying. Sanity has returned for 1 day. So I did a little photoshop/screen capture project today in honor of Roxy being freed from her Umbilical fetters. And make sure you read the Description.

Enjoy.

I Have A Son

Today Leni and I dared to venture out to Long Island to go to Century 21 (a department store). She hasn't been quite happy with any of her clothes, and as the car ride would probably stop Roxy from crying, it seemed a worthwhile adventure. Although I'm sure they thought the same thing in the Donner Party...probably right up to the point they were drizzling Teriyaki sauce on Uncle Rufus.

The ride didn't work. And while Roxy quieted down just long enough for us to get her to the 2nd floor, she let the lingerie department have it. And by "have it" I mean she told everyone in Baby Language "If you shop here I will destroy you." Knowing Leni's good mood would be dissipating exponentially the longer Roxy kept screaming, I offered to take her to the bathroom to change her. So I go allllll the way back to the elevator and then alllll the way to the back of the mall to the bathroom with a screaming baby.

I changed her diaper. And Roxy gave me 6 seconds of quiet to show her gratitude and then proceeded to scream again. And scream. And scream.

So by the time I get allll the way back to the elevator, I decide to take her out of the stroller, and put her in the sling Leni made for me (as this is pretty much the only sure way we have found to temporarily stop her from crying). I come out of the elevator and begin to maneuver her into the sling. And she is unhappy. Mucho unhappy. So I stick my pinky in her mouth (another method) and try to soothe her.

A woman comes by and notices me trying to calm my daughter. And from the looks of it, she just can't help herself.

"Huh, probably hungry, you know..." she says.

What I should have said: Go f*** yourself, fatty, this doesn't concern you.
What I did say: No, she's just grumpy.

She stood there for another few seconds before continuing her expert appraisal of the situation. "Probably got a wet diaper..."

What I should have said: You know, I didn't think of that because I'm so stupid and inept as a parent, when my baby cries, I don't think of the only two facets that really affect her life and her general mood, which are 1. "Is she hungry?" and 2. "Did she wet her effing diaper?" Here I was thinking she was upset about the sanctions against North Korea.
What I did say: No, no she's just grumpy.

She blinked twice, still committed to landing one of her questions on the correct side of the equation. And because I didn't want to bring Roxy out so Leni could hear her across the store, I remained trapped between the elevator bank and Awful.

"It's a boy, right?"

Granted, I was stressed and annoyed, but I figured I'd give her a final pass lest I let the full brunt of my frustration fall entirely upon her, otherwise they'd soon be cleaning the grease print of her stunned expression off of the down button.

"No, she's a girl."

And just when we reached Rock Bottom, she offered this as a closing statement: What's his name?

What I should have said: Roxy
What I did say: Brian

Breaking and Entering

Tonight Leni and I went for a walk to get some medicine our pediatrician recommended for Roxy to help her with her Colic/Reflux/Screaming/Sonic Blast of Destruction/Ability-to-push-me-to-the-edge-of-a-riverbank-with-a-burlap-sack-and-a-few-large-rocks-if-you-get-my-drift. Ahem.
Max wasn't interested in coming so we left her at home to hang out and practice her dance (she's got some thing at her school tomorrow where we have to stick around for 2 hours to watch her dance for 2 minutes 47 seconds). We went to CVS, walked over to Starbucks, and took a nice stroll home.
"I never realized how much attention I would get with a baby..." I said.
"Oh my god, I know. They come out of nowhere just to talk to you."
"Even like, young women..." I waited until Leni turned towards me, her eyebrows raised, mouth poised to attack. I smiled. "Like, attractive young women."
"Really..." she replied. And by "really" she meant "Are you prepared to limp home?"
"Oh, thank you. No, no, my wife died..."
Leni swatted my arm.
"Horribly. It's just me and my beautiful baby girl, now."
We laughed pretty much the whole way home, until, that is, we arrived to find Max in hysterics. She had tried to call me 3 times but I hadn't felt my phone vibrating. When she finally calmed down enough to let us know what had happened, she told us someone had broken in. She had spent the last 20 minutes hiding in the bathroom with the door locked. Since she couldn't get a hold of me, she called her friend Matthew who kept her calm and on the phone until we returned.
"Someone was walking around down here, knocking into stuff, walking around in the kitchen..."
There weren't any doors open, no windows. Nothing seemed to be broken or amiss. So what exactly was it Max had heard breaking into our house?
I was able to get a picture of him escaping.

She had left her hamster Lobster running around loose in her ball. And as there were long wood floors and plenty to bump into, I can only imagine what a 10 year old imagined was going on downstairs.
Tune in tomorrow for the very exciting Colic update.

Colic Strikes Again in Forest Hills

$36.95. That's how much you would have to spend to buy the following DVD:

BABY FART AEROBICS And Other Natural Treatments for Colicky Babies by Jini Patel Thompson Renowned expert on natural healing for digestive system diseases - Jini Patel Thompson - shares the tried and tested techniques she used to heal her own son's colic. The core routine for loosening the pelvis/bowel and facilitating the passage of stool and gas (Baby Fart Aerobics), consists of three simple steps, combined with colonic massage. Jini will teach you this same routine to use with your baby, to relieve his/her pain and crying from colic.

BABY FART AEROBICS can help relieve your baby's colicky symptoms.

$4,000,000,000,000,000,000,000.95. How much I WOULD spend to have my baby stop crying.

An Open Letter...

Dear Sex,

Thank you very much for the kind offer, but I am not going to be able to meet you tonight. As you know, my wife and I just had a baby and we are all extremely tired.

I appreciate your continued and unflagging interest, though, and look forward to seeing you soon.

Perhaps tomorrow?

Sincerely,

Rodney Sterbenz

What The F***, Chuck Woolery?

Leni and I are preparing for our move and I decided to jettison all of the crap I have accumulated in the multitude of boxes buried beneath our apartment. Bank statements, old notebooks, rent checks from 2002. Everything went...sorry, my daughter just filled her diaper in my lap...

[5 minutes later]

Anyway, everything went in the trash. For some reason I've been able to sever whatever emotional/sentimental attachments I had to things that I have kept for over 10 years. Today, I was cold and emotionally bereft. The envelope that had all of the letters my stalker from the film "No Reservations" had sent me, including the police report...TRASH! A stack of VICE magazines...TRASH! My Xbox games, movies I will never watch, all of it, either in the trash or recycled. Action figures, comics, knick knacks, and an effing mix tape from high school. But this little item?
I saved this one for you. This is an actual autograph my mother got me when she met Chuck in Las Vegas. Although I have to say in hindsight that the fact that my mother was with Chuck Woolery in Las Vegas sounds a lot seedier than it actually was. Sort of the opposite of the "dinner" my aunt had with Elvis (true story, they did it).

And although it's taken me more than 12 years to finally seek out the actual bible passages Chuck imparted to me, I'd like to share them now with you.

There are 2 books in the New Testament that start with "PHIL": Philippians and Philemon. The latter offers this as Verse 20: "Yea, brother, let me have joy of thee in the Lord: refresh my bowels in the Lord" I don't think Chuck misquoted, nor do I think he was trying to inspire me to "refresh my bowels in the Lord." I'm not even sure how I'd go about to get that accomplished anyway.

So here are the Philippians, Verses 20, 21:

[020] According to my earnest expectation and my hope, that in nothing I shall be ashamed, but that with all boldness, as always, so now also Christ shall be magnified in my body, whether it be by life, or by death.

[021] For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.

Was Chuck asking for a free pass for those humiliating jaunts on Lingo, or, more probably, "Think Like A Cat?" I'd Wiki "Think Like A Cat" but there are other ways for me to blow 4 minutes of my life, like writing a blog entry on Chuck Woolery perhaps?

I'm Ready For My Close Up, Mr. DeVille

I have to hope that someday Roxy will appreciate the comedic values of these expressions, and understand that the fact that they are on the internet should in no way impugn her future reputation nor social standing.

She probably won't. But until she can Sean Penn the camera away from me, I have an obvious advantage.

Enjoy today's highlights:
It's like a bottomless well of joy...Like having an iBaby, a program that randomly generates a baby making funny expressions and occasionally emits a smell something not altogether indistinguishable from poopy.

This Injustice Will NOT STAND!

If I had a time machine I would go back a week ago and say "Hey, I'm going to be exhausted and probably won't have time to blog for a bit so why don't you bop around the internet for a bit and check back here next week." Only, because I had built a time machine (therefore being of a higher intelligence than I actually tell people I am), I would have sounded much more articulate and probably wouldn't have used a word like "bop."

But it’s never too late to say “I’m sorry,” is it?

Regardless, I figured I would give everyone the Cliffs Notes version of how the birth went in a simple and easy to read format:

· Roxy Endler Sterbenz was born at 7:40 AM on June 12, 2009.

· Endler is my mother's maiden name. Roxy is spelled with a "Y" so she can't draw a heart over the "i". No joke.

· She was a week overdue.

· She was 9 lbs. 3 oz.

· She has dark hair and stormy blue eyes like her mother.

· The only likenesses to her father, so far, are her eyes and her exceptional abilities to expel gas quickly from her tush.

· Leni labored for about 10 hours, finally accepted the epidural, and then it kind of seemed like she wasn’t in labor anymore. God bless the opiods.

· The birthing process took 3 minutes. Seriously. The doctor joked that he didn’t have to wait for a contraction for Leni to push because his job was done before he even got there.

· We used a doula. She was the best money I have ever spent. Ever.

· I started fighting with my family around 4 PM.

One of the nurses said Roxy was the 2^nd largest baby she had ever seen (13 lbs. was the biggest). And when the nurse picked her up, she thought she was picking up something else in addition to the baby, and THAT was what was making her so heavy. Like maybe we had an anchor or an encyclopedia or something casually lying around in the Delivery Room.

But right now, Roxy can pretty much support herself. She can kind of stand, keep her head up, move around. I mean, Superman didn't lift that truck off Mr. Kent until he was about 3 or so. If she keeps at it, I would not be surprised if we gave birth to a superhero. She's that strong. She already helped me move an armoir. I'm serious.

Special News Bulletin

Leni wanted me to upload the video and images but we're too tired. So you'll get the pictures tomorrow. I'm trying to rest up while I can because this little girl can screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeam.

We're home now (about an hour ago we got in), and I immediately took a nap with Roxy on my chest. It was awesome.

Here's one from yesterday morning a bit after she was born.

Geronimo?

I think Leni's water may have broken. She's just talking on the phone with her doula and her doctor and I am literally losing my shit because I was napping for the past 2 hours and wake up feeling TOTALLY unprepared having no idea what I'm doing. This may be a false alarm...

I was prepared for a relaxed drive into the hospital tomorrow for induction. I'm not prepared for a harrowed drive to the hospital and jesus, why is Leni so calm? What's going on here? I have to go...

Got a minute?

Actually, do you have 5? Because today I'm offering a chance to waste 5 whole minutes. Irretrievably. All sales are final. And chances are, if you joined FaceBook, then, sheeee-ooot, you probably do. Here's what you need:

1. A membership to Netflix
2. Something to type with. Opposable thumbs, while not required, help.
3. Morbid curiosity

Now, I've already gone ahead and done the hard part for you. You have to take it from here.

This morning, Leni and I decided to see if we could find the most God-awful movie in the Psychological Thrillers section. We went to the "Play Instantly" feature on their website, and found the movie "Synchronicity" by Brian Hirschbine. The poster looks like this:

It was produced by, ahem, "Abortion Bin Productions" and I would think that alone should pretty much set you hurrying off to go watch it.

If you make it to the part where he reads the bloody note sticking out of his ear, it should wrap up around the 5:46 mark. Tell me who the note is from...and together we'll form a group. Like, a survivors group. Of people who endured something terrible.

Now, it should be said this in no way will lead you to nudist bowlers or anything like that. It has some really magical credits, a very meticulously directed scene where the main character throws up a Shirley Temple (I meant blood), and then reads the note sticking out of his ear.

Seriously.

Would I like to you?

Product Review: SodaStream

SodaStream is a home soda maker, which entails carbonating tap water and then adding soda flavors afterward. For some reason they are adamant about not adding the liquid flavors before hand. They are also quite clear about not trying to carbonate other liquids, like Milk, Chocolate Milk (so want to try this one), or any kind of juices.

So for the purpose of simplicity, I stuck to the instructions. I love seltzer. I tend to not drink a lot of soda ANYWAY, so I figured this might be a cool little gizmo to have around the house. You save money, use less bottles (it comes with 4 reusable bottles), and it helps the environment. And as long as you don't live in the South where the water smells like sulfur, this thing is pretty awesome.

It was about $130 for the Value Pack (which came with some flavors and another canister of compressed air.

How did it do? Max and I decided to make a few of the flavors and record our thoughts.

SELTZER:
Me: Great, tastes like seltzer. Considering its free and I made it in my sink, what's better than that?
Max: Yuck.

ROOT BEER:
Me: So-so. It has a really medicinal aftertaste. For some reason, SodaStream (in what appears to be a company policy) uses Splenda as a sweetener instead of delicious High-Fructose Corn Syrup. So while you're drinking Root Beer (they also have a Diet Root Beer), it pretty much seems like the poor man's diet version.
Max: "Tasted just like Root Beer but just a little bit sweeter. I love all Root Beer so I didn't have anything against it."

ORANGE SODA:
Me: First hint, not as sweet as regular orange soda, but stronger fruity aftertaste, as if you had had a piece of candy, or something. This one was my favorite.
Max: "Didn't really taste like orange soda. Tasted like tangerines with a little bit of sugar. And bubbly. Bubbly tangerines with sugar."

LEMON & LIME (SPRITE):
Me: Again, a little bit like Diet Sprite. Not bad by any means, but not something I would want to neccessarily seek out and consume.
Max: "Exactly like Sprite. And had the exact same bubble sense to it." This one was Max's favorite.

Pros: As lame as it sounds, I just really like seltzer. Each cannister makes 110 litres of seltzer/carbonated water. Any time I want it, I can make it. It's easy, and Max thinks it's fun enough that I can coerce her to make it if I don't want to get off the couch.
Cons: Until they start making a "High Fructose Corn Syrup" flavor, I'm pretty much uninterested in the soda flavors. Max doesn't care either way. I'm going to order the Cola flavor just to give it a go anyway. The one downside is the bubble won't last more than a day, and probably less than that if I cared enough to measure it. But it's tap water, who cares?

If you have kids, you can buy the flavors for cheaper than you would actual soda, make it in your sink, and they'll drink it regardless. You could pour sugar and anti-freeze into a glass and they'd still drink it (poor example - do not attempt this).

I Vill Break You!

Here is a list of Natural Induction Methods:

1. Relaxation

2. Visualization

3. Sex

4. Nipple Stimulation

5. Exercise

6. Coast Guard Search & Rescue

7. Bumpy Car Ride

8. Pineapple

9. Evening Primrose Oil

10. Spicy Food

11. Polo

12. Acupuncture

13. Acupressure

14. Alaskan Crab Fishing

15. Castor Oil

16. Red Raspberry Tea

17. Military Free-fall Parachuting

18. Walking

19. Stripping the Membranes

20. Grappling

Here is a list of what works:

1. Unicorns

2. Telekinesis

3. Dolph Lundgren

41 Weeks tomorrow and STILL no baby...Babies know they can't stay in there, right?