Wednesday, November 29, 2006

A little snip-snip and some snow

Grandma and Grandpa Siemers arrived from Minnesota on Monday night. By Wednesday morning, snow came to New Mexico.


It's Capt. Quinn's first brush with snow. Not that he cares. He's probably more concerned with all the attention being directed at more intimate parts of his wee body.

Dr. Good handled Quinn's little snip-snip procedure masterfully yesterday. Quinn was a trooper, making Mommy and Daddy proud. He only cried while being restrained, which makes sense, considering he was strapped to a table while a strange man in a white coat took a scalpel to his you-know-what. If that happened to me I'd start learning Kung-Fu.

I've come to believe that grandparents have cast some kind of spell over babies. Quinn's wails could register on the Richter scale while being held by Mommy and Daddy. But Grandma Smith just waltzes in his general proximity and it's like someone hit the mute button. Grandpa Siemers, too, has this talent. I'm convinced the magic spell is written in code on the back of AARP cards.

Quinn's big surgery is over. Now it's time for Dexie the Wonderdog to go under the knife. Come to think of it, I'm not sure there is any cutlery involved in pulling an absess tooth. So, I guess she's more likely to go under the pliers. Nonetheless, our furry friend is having a tooth pulled tomorrow, so here's to hoping that doesn't suck.

Today's picture I call, "So there's snow on the ground. Big deal. Put down the camera and throw me the ball."

Saturday, November 25, 2006

That warm feeling

Quinn laid in my arms, his wide little eyes staring back up at Daddy's. That's when it hit, that warm feeling, the sensation all new dads feel when holding their baby boys.

Yep, he peed all over me.

Through five layers of clothes, no less -- two of which were mine.

Before Quinn was born, he already had enough clothes to dress him through junior high. Now I know why. He goes through more wardrobe changes in a day than the cast of a Broadway musical. They don't pee themselves, though. At least I hope not.

After one change today, Aunt Carmen and Grandma Smith dressed him. Which was my first mistake. He came downstairs with an octopus on his head. It may have looked cute, but the little captain didn't seem amused.

He doesn't ever look too amused, though Mommy swears that she sees him smile now and then. I can see what she's talking about. But I think it's just gas.

As I type, Grandma Smith is grimacing over in Quinn's room:

"Ohhhh. I just changed him and he's making noises. I think he's filling 'em up."

See. She's getting the warm feeling, too.

Today's picture I call, "Who's great idea was this?":

Friday, November 24, 2006

A first Thanksgiving, and time to shop

Quinn came out of his first Thanksgiving much like every other day.

He slept, cried, ate and dirtied his diaper -- just like the rest of America, only without turkey. No, our wee captain bypassed poultry for his favorite meal: Mommy Brand© Milk.

It's funny how much a kid eats. For a few days he would awake every four hours for his 2.5 ounces. Now it seems like we're waking him every 2.5 hours for four ounces. The way he eats, I'm thinking he's more like Daddy every day. He's going to look three months old by Tuesday.

Speaking of resemblances, I think I can see a little bit of Nicole and I in Quinn. But I can't seem to point to anything specific that resembles either us: He's got her nose? Or is it mine? How about his ears? Too small to be Daddy's.

That is, except his hairline. Sorry son, that widow's peak that makes you look just a little bit sinister is Daddy's fault. Uncle Ken has it, too. Thankfully neither of us are bald yet. So you've got that going for you, buddy -- which is nice.

Today, Capt. Quinn and Daddy are taking Mommy and Grandma Smith out shopping. He's going to take his new wheels -- a stroller -- out for a test drive. We're not stupid, we know we're going to run into dizzying hordes of shopping zombies today. But this isn't about post-Thanksgiving sales. Mommy just needs to get out of the house.

Quinn, he'll probably do just like he did on Thanksgiving.

Sleep, cry, eat and dirty his diaper.

Today's picture I call, "Striking a Pose":

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Two restful nights and a doctor named 'Good'

As Capt. Quinn nears a week old, we celebrate the fact that he's adjusting smoothly to life at home.

We just wish we could say the same for Dexie the Wonderdog.

Dexie has lived here for a year and a half. She'd pee on the floor a few times, but otherwise adapted well. While she's largely been great with Quinn, she hasn't gotten used to the vastly reduced levels of attention directed her way.

She left a puddle of urine in Grandma Smith's bedroom this afternoon. That was right before she snuck a bite of the hamburger patties I had set out to thaw for dinner.

Dexie will improve. Hopefully as fast as young Quinn has.

It's been two nights in a row that the wee little man -- Captain of the U.S.S. Fussy Britches, in case you were wondering -- has righted his ship and slept a fairly regulated schedule.

Four hours of sleep. Eat. Four hours of sleep. Eat. Repeat.

It makes me wish I was a baby. All I want to do right now is sleep and eat. Heck, I'd even do it every four hours, so long as someone woke me up.

Yesterday was the good captain's first visit to the doctor, and he came out shining. Our pediatrician's name is Dr. Good. Now, there's a dentist in town who's name is Dr. Hurt. He has billboards around town that says, "It's my name, not my intention." Dr. Good could do something similar, saying: "Yes, it's my real name. And yes, I'm good. Very good, actually. Just ask the Siemers family."

Or something punchier.

Dr. Good next week will perform a little snip-snip procedure that most of us boys have endured but don't remember. I'm not talking about the umbilical cord either. But the good Capt. Quinn is a trooper. And the doctor, well, he's just Good.

Today's picture I call, "Get that camera out of my sleeping face":

Sunday, November 19, 2006

To sleep or not to sleep. It isn't a question.

There are times when I look down at my son's sleeping face and feel overwhelmed by his quiet, serene presence.

That wasn't the case last night.

As I mentioned previously, Capt. Quinn keeps night hours. Mom, Dad and Grandma, however, have yet to adequately address this issue. It's not so much that he's awake at night, but he's awake and screaming. And these are the kind of screams you'd expect from someone who's been kicked in the teeth, or something similar. And there's been no kickin' in this household.

He's just a wee little man, though. He's still searching his way through this strange world, as we all are. His trip has just begun. And it's probably a little spooky (and all together ooky. The Addams Fam-i-ly snap, snap).

The little fella, however, was the picture of serenity this afternoon when he fell asleep on Daddy's chest. I'd make the joke that I started a stand-up comedy routine and we both fell asleep, but that wouldn't be funny. Which is kind of the point.

Capt. Quinn got a good three hours of rest on Daddy's red Lobos shirt today. I look as if I'm sleeping in this picture, though I'm really just posing. I tried to sleep, but it's hard when you got this cute little fella on your belly. You just want to stare and say "awwww, look at that."

Dexie the Wonderdog, however, doesn't understand serenity. In a world with serenity, nobody throws the ball. And really, that's all she wants.

That leads me to The Daily Quinn's Photo of the Day. I call it, "What about me?"

Saturday, November 18, 2006

Of boogers and baths

Here in Day Four of When Quinn Takes Over the World, our wee captain, he of eternal cuteness, has boogers.

Boogers are a new discovery for Quinn, who doesn't quite know what to do with them besides wail. Mommy, Daddy and Grandma Smith, however, hope to leap this hurdle post haste, whatever post haste means. Someday, Quinn will learn all about the wonders of the English language -- and Kleenex.

In other exciting news, the brave Capt. Quinn endured the wrath of his mortal enemy Mr. Soft-Washcloth-Over-My-Bottom. Our young hero endured his first bout with forced cleanliness, coming out squeaky clean and soft. He smells nice, too.

So far, Capt. Quinn keeps night hours, like the lonely night watchman of some Downtown skyscraper. Except our hero wasn't alone. Mommy and Daddy, the great enablers, worked hard to match his endurance. It was all a bit of a fencing match.

"Fie, we will match your horrifying cries with this plastic `binky' young minion. TAKE THAT!"

Mommy and Daddy haven't won a match yet. But we will, oh yes ... we will (Daddy says, as he sheathes his 'binky'.)

Now, I sign off with The Daily Quinn's Photo of the Day (afternoon edition). I call it "My Muses."