Ten Days, Nine Hours Old

Asher is having a hard time getting to sleep, so I'm out on our couch keeping the glorious sleep-inducing pacifier in his mouth so Kristi can sleep uninterrupted until it's time for him to eat. Just a few minutes ago, in between being mostly asleep and frantically tossing his head in search of said pacifier, Asher turned ten days and nine hours old. In that period of time, Kristi and I have learned some general lessons about newborns, and some specifics about ours, on this sleepless roller coaster called parenting.

Earlier today on our bed

First, little Asher has decided that diaper changing time, in order to maximize the coming utility of a fresh diaper, is a great time to get some last minute "waste elimination" in. On the day Kristi and baby got to come home he made a little swimming pool of his plastic bassinet home of two days. Later that night, as a fresh diaper was nearly in place, there was a misfire. The arc o' waste cleared Asher's head, but landed on his clothes, the changing pad, the dresser, the wall behind his dresser, and one of his oversized hats. Lesson #1: Beware the undiapered baby. Since clothes can be washed and walls and dressers cleaned, we had a good laugh, proud of our son's, um... althetic prowess we'll call it.

On Sunday Kristi and I made the pilgrimage to the Tarpenning's house in South Jordan to give Grampa, Nona (Italian for Gramma), and the aunts and uncles a bit of grandchild/nephew time. We all left the house to go for a walk to a neighbor's house. Asher rode in my left arm, football style.

You know how sometimes you feel like your skin is getting wet, and you look down and nothing's there? This wasn't one of those times. My arm was definitely getting wet. Kristi and I turned around to see a liquid trail following me. I was carrying Asher's head a little beneath his thorax, and the diaper was leaking up. I guess diapers only work if children are rightside up. So, Lesson #2: Diaper + gravity = good. Keep that baby's head above his behind when you're carrying him.

We rushed back to the house, removed the dirty onesy, cleaned off Asher, changed the diaper, traded my white shirt for a non-soiled t-shirt of my father-in-law's, and realized that another lesson was upon us. Lesson #3: Always carry a spare outfit. We kept Asher in blankets until we got home.

(A side note on clothes: We were told Asher was born a pretty normal length and weight, but his newborn-sized onesies are huge on him. Here he is during a nap, buried in his thug outfit that he'll grow into someday. Don't mess with that pacifier.)

We've learned some interesting things about Asher's abilities, personality, and gustos (Spanish's more-efficient translation for English's long-winded likes and dislikes). He can already focus on faces. When Kristi reads Harry Potter to him, I can catch his eyes fixed on her face for short periods of time. When we video chat with Gramma and Grampa Spackman via the wonder that is Apple's iChat, Asher focuses on the screen when they are talking to him. (For rantings about how much Hugh loves that his parents can see their first name-carrying grandchild from 1300 miles away, see Hugh in person).

Asher likes being outside, which I find fascinating. If he's crying but not hungry, a quick step out the door will instantaneously turn fussing into curious, total faculty environment absorption mode. We noticed that his second day home.

In other random baby news, Asher is sleeping for 3-5 hours at night in between meals. His favorite place to sleep is on mom or dad's chest. He is called Sweet Boy by his mom, and Little Dude / Little Guy by his dad.

All in all, he is a happy baby, and his parents like him.