Day 462: Tasmanian Devil Child

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No midday entry for this guy today. No sir. I'm diving in and getting this thing written at 10:45 like a boss, despite having no idea what I'm going to talk about, despite being still so tired I could bounce my face off the keyboard (not a good Blaze night), but because we're going to be out all day and I'd rather have my evening to myself, without keeping this thing percolating on the back burner until it boils over and makes a mess of the oven..

It looks like it's going to rain. There you go; when in doubt, open with chatter about the weather. This is what it's come to guys. After 462 days we remain like two strangers at a bus stop, trying to think of something to talk about. They were calling for rain so perhaps for once they may have gotten it right. Jeannette has taken Blaze into town to get some stuff -a baby bumper for the crib being one of those items, so he can stop giving himself a concussion every five minutes at night- and then when she gets back we're going to take him in to my mom's so that we can go in and see the dietician.

As it turns out, Jeannette flunked her first gestational diabetes test so she had to take the second one, as I'm no doubt sure you'll all aware of by now, reading my blog EVERY DAY as do. We got a call from the doctor on Friday, not getting it until everything was closed for the weekend, telling her that she had an appointment with the nutritionist for today. We inferred perhaps incorrectly that this was because of her actually having G.D. and as a result she was pretty upset about it on Saturday... deciding that it was the worst case scenario before we had all the information; not something that's very wise to do in my book, though entirely understandable given the circumstances and amount of hormones being shot through her body.  

Not so. She merely failed the first test miserably, inadvertently eating all the wrong things the night before as I think I told you. She ate a bag of carrots like a meth crazed Roger Rabbit as well as all sorts of other things she thought was a good idea, which as it turns out, were not. Anyway, she passed the second test, but only barely, so now we have to go in to speak to someone about her bags of carrots issues, and other food, as well as how she needs to start exercising more and all that, and just generally watch herself a bit more. As a result we went for a walk after dinner last night, getting assaulted by mosquitos the entire time, and will continue that practice likely until the baby is born. This plays right into what I wanted to start doing anyway; I've been after her to start walking! I guess because I don't wear a white lab coat there's no reason to believe anything I say. 

Fair enough. 

It's true what they say, about the difference between even baby one and baby two. With Blaze we were extra careful, watched everything she ate and drank, and made sure to treat her body like the beautiful, majestic vessel it is. Fast forward six months and if she wasn't able to balance a bowl of popcorn on her belly we'd likely still be forgetting she's even pregnant. What's the difference between those two scenarios you ask?? Is it that we've turned into a couple of neglecting shit heads? Nope. Blaze. Once you have that first kid running around you should be thankful for the days you have time and self-awareness enough to pull your pants down before going to the bathroom. All encompassing would be the word phrase I'd use to describe the impact of this little guy on our lives to date. Oh, we'll catch up, and are, but for now he takes 98% of the effort and attention his parents are physically able to produce. 

And then the next one will be here and no doubt she'll get knocked up again and we'll do this all over again next year. Oh Jesus, I shouldn't even joke about that... :|

As to Mr. Blaze himself... he flipped out last night at around 12:45am. Wouldn't settle. He'd gone to bed well enough at around 9 or so, and after a quick little gripe session about having to lay in a sterile crib instead of on his dad's chest, he settled in and passed out. Well, I'm sure I don't have to tell you that dear old daddy was quite proud of himself for that, and waltzed downstairs with the appropriate swagger as a result. Then 3 hours later I'm upstairs staring down at him in his crib as he's trying to pull his ears off and is screaming so hard he's almost gagging. We did all the things you do to try to sort him out, reposition him, shove the soother back in his mouth, and then tried to tap his butt or rub his head (J's move) until he settled back down. 

Yeah, well that never happened. It was like trying to get a Tasmanian devil to stop moving long enough to pose for a family picture. It just wasn't going to happen. And of course the whole time Jeannette is just lurking in the shadows with an eye on the whole situation, ready at the slightest sign of weakness to scoop him up, slide into bed with him, shut the door, and send dad back off on his own for another night. Well I wasn't having that guys, so instead I decided to give him a bottle and see if that might dull the edge a bit. 

The bottle didn't really work. He just pounded it back like a frat house thug guzzling Coors Light through a funnel and then looked at me and started screaming again. It didn't help matters that I had to pick him up and bring him over near his crib in order to pick up his soother, which caused him to shriek all over again, thinking I was putting him back down... and well, you get the point I'm sure. He was an unruly mess and didn't pass out again for over an hour. It took the two of us standing over him, employing our separate comforting methods at the same time; an ass tapping from me, and the more classic head rub from Jeannette. He went back to sleep and stayed that way until very early this morning; maybe 6 or so. That's when Jeannette went back into his room and took him into the bed there in hopes of getting him to sleep a while longer; which she was able to do. I could have fought her on it, but none of us had the energy at 6am. Better to just take the medium level victory from last night and be happy. 

Our Ottawa trip is fast approaching. We're planning on leaving this Saturday, after getting the tints on the Honda Pilot back windshield taken out, and hope to get in maybe Sunday night, Monday at the latest. He should be pretty good on the road trip I think, he's quite good in the car.. at times. But we'll see. No need to worry about it. Besides, it can't be as bad as our last drive from Ottawa to here, when we missed the 44 car pile up by three cars, sat on the highway for three hours in -16C weather and Jeannette had to pee into the centre console of the old car. Grim indeed. 

Have a good day munks.
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