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The little stinker did it again

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CONOR THINKS I HUNG THE MOON

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There’s something special about a dad and his son that just seems to make the world make sense. I feel like all the stuff i learned once upon a time has a purpose again. And if my son doesn’t like that I’m always imparting bits of trivial knowledge into his brain, he doesn’t show it. In fact, he acts like he relishes it. He’s only two but I thought he might like to know that the moon is only 270,000 miles from Earth. And when i took a picture of it this weekend with a powerful Nikon lens, I pointed out the acne spots were really places where asteroids collided with the moon. He laughed and clapped. I never really thought of it that way but I decided it was funny and thought applause was in order. I mean it really must have been quite a sight to see two foreign bodies crash into each other 270,000 miles away. I mean, it’s not like anyone got hurt or anything. He was playing with the wheel of my bike this weekend and as it spun, I explained that once an object is in motion it will continue that motion until an opposite force makes it stop. He rubbed his finger along the rubber until it stopped. He laughed. I said, “exactly”. Then he realized he burned his finger on the spinning rubber and he lifted his finger for me to kiss and make better. I did as told and he smiled. I didn’t tell him of the phenomenon ‘placebo effect’ because that would ruin everything.

It’s a brief time that my son is a little boy thinking that his dad hung the moon. I’m going to milk it for everything it’s worth. - See more at: http://dadsdecoded.com/blog/index_files/archive-oct-2013.html#sthash.csgaEp8K.dpuf
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READING STORIES TO MY SON WHILE ON THE ROAD


Foresight of my 10 days away from Conor motivated me to drag out the video camera and the tripod and read some of Conor's favorite stories before I left for Stockholm on business. This one is called Holler Loudly and I love hearing my son try to say, "Loudly". I called my wife to see how the two of them were doing and she said that Conor had started to ask about me on a regular basis so she played these videos on the TV and he calmed down and settled into half a dozen videos that I have stored in the section called, "The Reading Corner."
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A BIG TRUCK MISUNDERSTANDING


Conor has a little trouble saying, 'truck'. The result is embarrassing. We're working on it.
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CONOR'S FIRST BIRTHDAY

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Conor's first birthday was on a Tuesday so we plan to wait until Saturday to have a party. We're not that into parties but it is his first one so we opted to invite a few of the neighbors. But tonight, we opened his big present from us; a #1 red race car. He and his dog are pretty impressed.
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8-YEAR OLD BOYS COULD JOIN THE NAVY IN 1812

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Conor, Valerie and myself took a couple of our friends from Ireland to see the U.S.S. Constitution today. The tour is free and is quite good. The ship is still a commissioned U.S. warship and sets sail approximately twice a year to sail around the harbor. The U.S.S. Constitution is also known as 'Old Ironsides' because when the English tried to sink the ship, their cannon balls were seen to hit the side of wooden the boat and bounce off. One of the jaw dropping facts we heard today is that boys as young as eight could join the Navy back during the early 1800's. Turns out the compartment where the gunpowder was kept was quite small and boys could get in and out of their easier than a grown-up. So boys were taken to see and sent into battle because they were the right size. What's even more shocking is that both sides knew that the small boys were the ones who were running for gunpowder. So it was important to try to shoot the boys when possible to slow the soldiers down from being able to load their cannons. My, my how things have changed. Unless your an Al Queda terrorist, then it's okay to send 8-year old boys to their death with explosives strapped to their bodies.
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CONOR DANCES AT HINDU WEDDING

VIMEO VIDEO GOES HERE
Conor wasn't the only one who was alcohol-free at tonight's Hindu wedding for one of Valerie's friends in Montreal. Turns out that alcohol isn't served at Hindu weddings. Nonetheless, we had a really good time and the Indian food was unbelievably good! Conor may only be 10 months old but the little guy knows how to party.
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MY DAD MEETS CONOR FOR THE FIRST TIME

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It's been 10 months since my son was born and I have to admit, I was looking forward to Conor finally meeting my dad. I get frustrated thinking that it took this long to make it happen but with work, travel and planning, here we are and that's all there is to it.

To think my 10 month old would somehow recognize his grandpa having never seen him before would be folly but I still wish he hadn't looked at my dad like he was a complete stranger. I wish he wouldn't have shied away as I brought him right up to my dad to say hi. If my dad was disappointed he didn't show it. He just chuckled and told his grandson that it was good to finally meet him. We then piled into the Jeep and headed home. Once home, grandpa got busy with the pinto beans that have been cooking slowly for a few hours, put some pork on the grill and mixed up some cornbread from cornmeal and tossed it in the oven. I snuck a taste of the beans and gave half a bean to Conor. Here we are just after stealing a taste. Conor's starting to warm up to his grandpa but is still not quite sure. But then again, those pinto beans taste pretty good. Grandpa can't be all that bad.
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HOW MANY BABY CLOTHES IS TOO MANY

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My wife and I have worked out a deal; I take Conor to daycare and she picks him up. This enables her to get to work early so she can leave early. That means I get to feed and dress him on Tuesdays and Thursdays. It seems every time I dress Conor for daycare, I can’t find clothes for him. I mean, I know where they’re located but there’s just nothing except clothes that are too small for him. Everything else has food or worse on them. I always say to Conor, ‘Tonight is laundry night.” Question is, “How many clothes do we need so that we’re not doing laundry all the time but we’re also not buying too much stuff?" I mean he outgrows an outfit about every two months. My wife would never let me count the clothes in her closet but she’s never said anything about our 9-month old son so I dug into his closet and counted the following;

1. 9 onesies (never heard of this word until my son was born)
2. 5 shirts
3. 5 short pants ( just bought two of those yesterday)
4. 3 long pants
5. 1 pajama (I forgot to buy 2 more yesterday. He’s outgrown the other 6 that still take up space in his closet)
7. 7 jackets (we live in New England these days)
8. 4 hats (he won’t wear any of them
9. 3 bandanas ( I forgot about them until I wrote this which means he never wears them.)
10. 5 pairs of socks he never wears because he doesn't walk yet and it's summertime
10. 1 pair of sunglasses that he also never wears

This doesn’t sound too extravagant for a 9 month old but it doesn’t sound too bare bones either. After all, a 9-month old can get into a mess pretty fast since he’s on the crawl, eats like a horse, and what goes in must come out. And that can sneak past a pamper on any given poo.

I’ll keep an eye on the intake and outtake of clothes because on one hand, we cant do laundry every evening with two working parents. But at the same time, too many clothes piling up doesn’t seem like a good answer either.

By the way, I’m way over the “Mommy’s little rocker” shirts and “I’m a rock star” baby clothes. Can we please move on to something more original. In that regard, I’ve discovered that 77Kids and Crazy 8 seem to have cool stuff this year.

Links about how much clothing we need:

http://www.keeperofthehome.org/2011/08/an-experiment-just-how-many clothes-do-kids-need-anyways.html

http://moneysavingmom.com/2010/10/my-minimalist-wardrobe-vlog.html

http://www.livingonadime.com/how-many-clothes-do-i-need/

http://www.ehow.com/baby-clothes/
- See more at: http://dadsdecoded.com/blog/index_files/archive-jul-2012.html#sthash.8lIKzwos.dpuf
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HAPPY FATHER'S DAY

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My son gave me his feet for my first Father's Day. I have to admit I welled up a little. I feel so lucky to have him in our lives. We spent the day hanging out while mom went to a baby shower. We went to Home Depot and bought manly stuff. Then we came home and worked on the boat until it was dinner time. Then we played a little more until at last, he conked out. Not a bad Father's Day at all.
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SEPARATION ANXIETY

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6 and 7 months is the time when some kids get separation anxiety. This can manifest itself by being shy around strangers or getting upset when you leave the room and they don’t get to come along.
While our son, Conor, has a very happy disposition and loves to meet strangers, he is showing some signs of separation anxiety when we leave the room. If he’s playing with a toy, there’s a good chance he won’t cause a commotion. But if he’s between toys and realizes that he’s on his own, he begins to cry. At night, Conor does not like to be put in his crib and have us walk away. We have tried leaving him in his crib to cry but 15 minutes is about as long as we care to hold out. After that, it just seems cruel to him and irritatingly noisy to us. It’s easier to pick him up after a cry and within 5 minutes he’s asleep in our arms and can then go back to sleep in his crib.
I don’t think I’m necessarily strict with Conor, but at the same time, I do think there has to be some boundaries. But at 7 months, I’m still trying to decide what they are. And wanting to be held by his dad right before bed doesn’t seem too outrageous.
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HAPPY AND THOUGHFUL MEMORIAL DAY

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It’s a bittersweet day. Great to have a day off and connect with the family over a long weekend. And sad to think of the men and women who have given their lives so that we can enjoy days like this. My Grandfather, great uncle, uncle, dad and brother all served in the military. Most served in the Navy except my brother, who joined the USMC. I’m lucky enough that they all survived the many wars through the years, but it’s still a tragic day for so many.
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SUN, MEET MY SON

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Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. Upon returning from Europe, the sun was smiling on Boston and I can finally introduce my son to the sun. Sounds like a country song. “Come on Conor, let’s work this one out. You play the bass notes and I’ll handle the high ones.”
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LUFTHANSA MAD IT DIFFICULT TO FLY WITH A CHILD TODAY

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I'd like to say the flight back to the states on Lufthansa after 13 days in Europe went smoothly, but it's not so. Not because of our seven month old but because of the Lufthansa staff. First, our ticket agent in Dublin failed to check our luggage through to Boston. We had to pick it up in Frankfurt and go through security all over again. Argh! Then, we had to leave our stroller at the gate in Dublin and Lufthansa said it would be waiting in in the jetway when we landed in Frankfurt. No stroller or car seat. Hello baggage claim with a stiff back. Argh! Then while on the tarmac, a Lufthansa flight attendant asked if the infant car seat was FAA approved. After a 5 minute conversation and a sticker on the side of the seat, we buckled back in. Argh! Then upon arrival in Boston, once again, Lufthansa forgot to deliver all the strollers to the jetway and all the parents had to carry their children, diaper bags and carry-ons through security and on to baggage claim. Argh! All this happening in the final hours after 13 days abroad, the trip to Europe was great and traveling with Conor was a real gas. In more ways than you can imagine. "Honey, I think Conor did it again. Must be the altitude."
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CONOR CRAWLS FOR THE FIRST TIME TODAY


May 17th, 2012 at 7:37am, Conor decided to crawl for the first time. I happened to be cleaning the camera when I saw him and shot this :10 video as he came crawling to me. I told Valerie to come check him out. When she saw him crawling she started crying. I looked back at Conor to see what had happened that would cause her to cry. But he was just kneeling there smiling. I looked back to see if she was fine but she was still crying. Then I was really confused. Finally, it hit me that she was crying because she was happy and sad that he was crawling. It was another one of those milestones that reminds us that he’s getting older and he’ll never be the baby he was. He’s changing. And when it hit me, I was a little sad, too. He’s been such a great baby that it’s hard to admit we’re moving into the next phase of his life and the old phase is now a piece of charming history.
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GERMANY TO IRELAND - BATTLE OF THE BEERS

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Left Germany this morning after a week of great sightseeing, company, food and of course, great beer. Each town has its own breweries and the local restaurants serve the local beer. So after 5 days of local PIls, Helles and Dunkels, we left Germany for Ireland. By 1pm I couldn’t stand to wait any longer and when my wife’s father asked me if I wanted a Guinness, I think I answered a little too fast, “Yes.” My son was just as mesmerized at the black gold as I was. We admired its iconic black color and white foam for about 30 seconds then opted for a taste. I don’t which beer I like better. And really, do I have to choose? No, when in Germany do as the Germans. And when in Ireland, do as the Irish. They’re both delicious. And so I leave the toast of, “Prost” in Germany and switch to “Slainte” now that I’m in Ireland. Both mean, “To good health!”
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JOURNEY INTO THE HEART OF PORSCHE

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Today is Sunday in Stuttgart and the Mercedes Museum was so much fun yesterday that my colleagues and I decided to visit the Porsche Museum today. It was very cool but very different from the Mercedes Museum. While the Mercedes Museum was about the history of Mercedes with no holds barred. Meaning that during WWII, while Mercedes became an armament factory and had to use forced labor to build the Third Reich’s ammunitions, they owned up to it and spoke matter-of-factly about it. They pointed out the error of their ways and how the Allied Forces bombed the factories to smithereens. The museum was as much a timeline of world history as it was a museum about cars. Porsche, on the other hand, glossed over all the bad times and focused purely on its successes. And all of those successes stemmed from the design flair of curvy fenders and fast engines. Porsche has never strayed from the iconic shape and it was awesome to see the history of the brand all under one roof. The picture here is the stainless steel ceiling at the museum. Since we all know the iconic shape of Porsche, I concentrated on the mosaic-type ceiling that shows a reflection of our world as an abstract painting; broken yet whole.
When my son is old enough, I’d like to take him here. And show him which of the Porsche’s I’d like him to buy me for my 70th birthday.
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HOW DO DADS COPE WITH TRAVELING AWAY FROM THEIR KIDS

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As my team from Small Army and Old Harbor Productions travel together through Europe shooting small films for SolidWorks, I noticed that the producer was taking out a little Buzz Lightyear and snapping photos in front of iconic locations throughout our trip. I couldn’t help but finally ask what was up with all the Buzz pictures. Steve told me that his son is 4 years old and looks forward to his dad taking pictures of Buzz throughout the world. Buzz has been to more places that most of us could ever hope to go. Steve’s son loves this. And so does Steve. After all, he spends about 80% of his time traveling the world to create commercials and films for big name clients like GM, Audi, Gillette and SolidWorks to name just a few.

I thought it would be interesting to do a Google search to see how prevalent the topic is on the internet. You know, to see how other dads cope and offer advice to other dads. The search was, The search was, "How do dads cope with traveling away from their kids“. “The very first Google find was,
“How could men get away without paying child support?” The second was by a mom blogger who wrote, “Kids acting out cuz they miss their dads.” And finally, “Moving away and custody of fathers.” Maybe it’s just a matter of bad SEO from other sites but this is what came up. Nowhere were dads talking about how they cope with being away from their kids. I thought that Steve’s approach was a great idea. Where ever he goes in the world, he feels a connection when he takes out Buzz Lightyear from his busy job, and takes a moment to snap a picture of Buzz LIghtyear conquering foreign lands in a polymer plastic uniform that could only be from the future. Steve then sends the pictures home and his son knows that his dad is always thinking of him as he introduces Buzz to new places but will ultimately return to the loving arms of his son.

My 6-month old son has no idea that daddy is traveling. He simply knows that I don’t exist when I’m not there. After 13 days apart I will magically appear again. I expect that he will hear my voice and see my smiling face and break out into a giant smile and uncontrollably kick and shake with delight and forgive me for magically disappearing for so long. And while I love traveling and meeting intelligent people with great stories, I never stop thinking of my son. And when i see others pushing their child’s stroller or hear a child cry, I feel a yank at my heart, or is it my soul, that says, get home quickly. One of the things I do to cope with being away from my son is writing this blog to stay connected to dadhood in a small way. It’s important for me to do something every day that involves my son even if I’m not home. So the blog is one way. Shopping for small presents is also rewarding. And as a songwriter, writing little songs about or for him also scratches the itch of being a dad who may not be with his child but is still connecting the best way he can think of. This to me, is very important to being a dad.

Tomorrow we travel to Germany for our last film of this trip. It will last 4 days and then I will be back home in Boston to see my brave and loving wife, and my perpetually happy son. I hope they greet me with open arms.

If you have any stories or suggestions of how you cope when away from your family, please let us know. We dads can use all the help we can get.
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INTERVIEWING THE DESIGNER OF THE WORLD'S MOST COMPLICATED WRISTWATCH

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Today is exciting as we prepare to interview the designer of the world’s most complicated watch which sold recently for 2.7 million dollars. Located in the foothills of the Swiss Alps in Geneva, Switzerland, John Pierre Golay and his cousin Pierre Michel, of Franck Muller Company, are two charming older gentlemen who have opened their studio compound to us. They have agreed to show us the entire process of how they created their newest watch, the Giga with the largest tourbillon ever designed. I asked John Pierre if there were any secrets or proprietary information that we should stay away from. His reply was, “What secrets? We have no secrets. It is about experience; about understanding. If you can make this watch, please go ahead.”
They don’t make any children’s watches so Conor will have to keep asking mommy and daddy what time it is. Considering he’s only 6 months old, I don’t suppose he cares what time it is anyway. It’s either time to play, time to eat or time to sleep. And no watch is going to tell him that!
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THESE GUYS DESIGNED AND BUILT A WATCH THAT SOLD FRO 2.7 MILLION DOLLARS

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We have now completed our film of Franck Muller brand wristwatches, the master of complications. Here are the brains behind the operation, Jean Pierre Golay and his cousin Pierre Michel Golayl Both of these Swiss gentlemen went to watch making school years ago and have mastered their craft. If there were a sport called Xtreme watch making, these guys would be the poster boys. The last watch they created took four years to make and had over 1,500 parts delicately placed in a case that fits on your wrist. Without SolidWorks CAD software, this would have been nearly impossible to create. I asked Jean Pierre this afternoon at lunch why the Swiss are so well known for watch making. He surprised me by answering that the French were the real watch makers but that hundreds of years ago, the protestants and Catholics went to war and the protestants were exiled and they went to Switzerland. These were the watch makers and so they took their craft with them.
Tomorrow, we’re back to Paris to finish filming the Aldebaran humanoid robots. I’d like to get my son one of them but considering they are $15,000, I’ll look for something a little less steep in the local souvenir shop. Seven more days until I get to hold him in my arms and kiss my wife. - See more at: http://dadsdecoded.com/blog/index_files/archive-apr-2012.html#sthash.H6iEDYW5.dpuf
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DAD GOES CURLING ON EASTER SUNDAY

For the last three Olympics, for some reason I have been fascinated by curling. I can be walking by the TV and if curling is on, I come to a screeching halt, sit on the couch and the next thing I know, a full hour has passed. Cryke! So last night when a group of us friends were out to dinner, our friend, Britt's husband announced that she had won a silver medal at the Curling Nationals recently. My ear perked up and she saw me flinch. She asked if I like curling. I admitted that I did. She then asked if I would like to try it. I could hardly believe my luck. Good things really do come to those that wait. At last my prayers had been answered and I was invited to go curling. Uh, with a silver medalist, mind you.So here it is, Easter Sunday, and while my wife and 5-month old son looked, I slid a red rock onto the ice. It weighs an incredible 40 lbs. and you're not supposed to pick it up.So I didn't. I uncomfortably squatted into a crouching position with a broom in one hand and the rock in the other. I pushed off with my right foot and launched myself onto the ice. I glided uncomfortably and wobbled uncontrollably. I pretty much stunk at it. But I'm not one to give up. So I tried again, this time I leaned on the rock to control my sense of balance. It was a disaster. I tumbled over and legs, arms and brooms went everywhere. I tried yet again, unrattled by what had gone before. I was sure after three Olympic watchings on TV, I could do this with some grace. The third time was the charm. I learned from my mistakes and as I pushed off the block, I remained in control, somewhat comfortable and pointed my rock for the house across the ice. I didn't tear up but I was pretty proud of myself. Coach Britt was impressed and for the next hour I got better and better. My son was crying because it was cold on the ice so my wife took him inside the clubhouse. That's why the only footage of my paradise on ice was the third attempt at curling.Coach Britt was pretty impressed and invited me back when curling resumes in October. I'm not sure if I'll continue this new sport, but I'm going to give it quite a lot of consideration. After all, there was a bar in the clubhouse that looked like it was stocked to the gills. And a fireplace to sip my sports drink(s) at the end of the glorious day.
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SPENDING THE WEEKEND WITH MY SON ALONE

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Conor and I spent the long weekend together as my wife had a weekend conference. We packed a lot into one weekend as he never let me rest the whole 72 hours and his attention span only lasts about 15 minutes. Here's a clever list of all we accomplished; 1. Cleaned out three boxes of junk so his baby toys could go where my big boy toys used to go. 2. Wrote a song together when he started pouting and I was tired of the old songs I usually sing. 3. Tried solid food and after he spit up the apple sauce we went back to drinking from a bottle. (My bottle looked different than his.) 4. Cleaned out his entire dresser, all because I couldn't find a bib and knew the solid food wasn't going to be pretty. 5. Watched Sponge Bob Squarepants for the first time. (A first for both of us.) 6. Spent an inordinate amount of time helping Conor practice standing up and keeping his balance. (i I figured out he's too busy balancing to cry in this position.) 7. Drove to Newburyport, NH and Kittery Maine for no good reason. Oh, except that he sleeps in the car and therefore doesn't cry. 8. Did tons of laundry, folded it and put it back in its place while he watched on grabbing the laundry and putting it in his mouth before I folded it. 9. Played the guitar while he watched, kicked, waved his arms and smiled. (I wish I had audiences like him back when I was a recording artist.) 10. Did some green screen filming with Conor for an upcoming music video called, "I Can't Go Nowhere Man." 11. Cleaned up the house before mommy came home and realized we were having lots of fun. Keeping a 5-month old happy isn't easy. But at the same time, it ain't that hard, either. What a great time we had.
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HAPPY ST. PADDY'S DAY

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Conor started to show signs of standing while we were visiting his Mimi in Austin, Texas last week. On St. Patrick's Day, this half Irish baby decided it was time to go for it. I was surprised at his effort. So I did a little research to see what was going on. I wondered if there were some exercises I should be doing to encourage this behavior. According to the Baby Center in the UK, "when it comes to motor development, you don't have to worry about any special exercises. Your baby will progress in a predictable pattern. First, she will achieve head and neck control, then torso and upper body strength, then lower limb strength. In early infancy, a baby may enjoy pushing with her feet or even bouncing as you hold her. Her natural reflexes enable her to engage in this activity, but she won't necessarily always want to take part in this type of play and some babies may not enjoy it at all. Later, when her torso is stronger and she is getting ready to walk, she will be able to stand upright."

Here's the link to the article i found at
BabyCenter.com.
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IF A COW CAN JUMP THE MOON

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By the time Conor was 3 weeks old, I was already tired of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star", "You are My Sunshine" and a few other songs I could barely remember from childhood. Bored by the classics, I started making up a song for him and within an hour I had written four verses and a chorus that he seemed to like. Granted he was 3 weeks old but it kept him from crying unlike "The Eyes of Texas Are Upon You," (even though that's not a children't song.) Now Conor is 5 months old and is completely captivated by the song as you can see in this picture. No matter what kind of a rotten day he's having, as soon as I hit the first few notes of the song, he stops crying and starts smiling. Here's the lyrics;

"What Can Little Boys Do When They Try" written and copyrighted by Steve Kolander

If a cow can jump the moon and pigs can learn to fly
What can little boys do when they try
Run and catch a frog, learn to ride a dog
What can little boys do when they try

Find a great big tree, carve a boat and sail the seas
What can little boys do when they try
Build a rocket made of cans, launched with rubber bands
What can little boys do when they try

Try, try, try
What can little boys do when they try, try, try
Anything can happen when you try, try, try
What can little boys do when they try

If a big, bad wolf can smile and three pigs can laugh and cry
What can little boys do when they try
Learn to ride a bike with their hands up in the sky
What can little boys do when they try

Tame a lion with a chair
Juggle monkeys, hug a bear
What can little boys do when they try
Learn to go to bed when their pillow hits their head
What can little boys do when they try

Repeat Chorus and go to bed
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GOOD MORNING, SON

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Conor awoke at 6am. He didn't scream. He didn't cry. He giggled. And gurgled. And played on his own. I tried to sleep with one eye open but it was no use. I had one ear on Conor. And one ear on my thoughts. Today is the first day of SxSW 2012 and I always get excited about what there is to be learned that will make me a better writer. A better marketer. A better leader. A better blogger. But right now, I decide it's better to just be dad. So I peel back the warm bed cover, walk over to Conor's travel crib, pick him up and kiss him good morning. He rewards me with the best gift a child can give his dad; he smiles at me with all the innocence that the definition offers. I'm proud to be his dad. And he's perfectly content to be my son. I revel in the glory. Knowing it will fade by the time he's a teenager.
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THERE'S SOMETHING SPECIAL ABOUT BROTHERS

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My brother and I don't see much of each other these days, maybe once a year as I live in Boston and he lives in Austin. As Conor turns 5 months old tomorrow, it was good for Michael to finally meet his only nephew. Michael was the first person i told that my wife was pregnant fourteen months ago and i still remember how a tear came to his eye. He was so excited to finally be an uncle and he was glad that I would finally get to understand the joys of being a dad that he felt as a father of four. We probably won't see each other again for 6 months to a year. And those two hours in Mondola's Restaraunt in Austin, Texas will be the only reminder of getting to see my nephews, Michael and Ethen, his his only glimpse of his nephew Conor until we meet again. It's far from ideal but as the world gets smaller, I somehow manage to drift farther from the town i once called home. Still, my brother and I always manage to find something that we still have in common and we hang onto those moments until it's time to say goodbye. This time, it was a conversation of both being dads and how good it feels.
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WE'RE ABOUT TO FLY WITH OUR FOUR-MONTH OLD

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Tomorrow, the Kolander family flies from Boston to Austin for this year's SxSW 2012 Interactive Conference. It's the first time since we've had Conor that we've attempted to fly. We skipped a holiday flight to Ireland in December because Conor was barely two months old and hadn't had all his vaccinations. Now, there's no excuse.

We're nervous. We remember being the kid-free adults cringing as the mother would walk down the aisle juggling a diaper bag, a screaming kid and hand-held luggage to shove into the overhead bin. I would always hope they would stop before they got all the way to my seat and sit down next to some other poor sap. But now, I'm the guy with the 4 month old, who at any given moment can explode into sobs of discomfort, annoyance or hunger. The question is, will I be able to intercept the audible pangs before they become the equivalent of fingers on a chalkboard for a plane full of business travelers.

This has led me do a little research on how to entertain kids on a plane to keep them in check. First of all, I didn't find any fool-proof method so that was a disappointment. But I did remember that before Conor was born I was searching website for kid tidbits and I found an article about traveling with a child. And that there's a baby hammock available that you attach to the tray table in front of you and the other half is attached to you. And the baby fits inside the hammock so you can see the baby at all times without him being draped across you for the entire flight. Well, I purchased that contraption before Conor was ever born and I pulled it out of the drawer last night. People swear by these things so I plan on trying it Thursday.

As my research continued, I really begin to see the advantage of buying Conor his own seat so I can use my infant car seat for him. We did not do this and I now have a call into my wife to see if it's still possible. (I would do it myself but don't have the flight information at my fingertips.) Many airlines offer a 50% discount for infants so this would help with the cost.


Other Tips I found that may help;

1. Relax, travel used to be fun! Let's just pretend it still us. If you are uptight the baby will definitely sense it and start to also get uptight.

2. Buy a seat for the baby to guarantee that you can use your infant safety seat on the plane — securing the child in one will make the trip easier for you and safer the your baby
(typical 50% domestic discount but baby then gets full baggage allowance so easier to check in more stuff)

3. Have a bottle available for take-off/landing to keep the baby swallowing — helps lessen pressure in the ears.
(Swallowing/sucking during landing is more important than during take-off as landing is harder on the ears.)

4. Pack at least 50% more diapers than you think you'll need, and extra wipes — air travel has a way of clearing out little guts

5. Get to the airport early — allow at least an extra 45 to 60 minutes for last minutes feeds and
diaper changes pre-boarding, and getting through security is a time-consuming nuisance, especially with a baby.

6. Remember that despite what a few FT members think, infants screaming on planes is neither criminal or fatal. We'd all prefer to minimize it, but sometimes it is just gonna happen. And when it does, probably most parents on the plane are more in sympathy with you than angry (and secretly glad it's not their baby this time)!

Found at; http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/archive/t-406377.html

Here's a link to the Flyebaby report; http://airplaneflyingwithkids.blogspot.com/2010_11_01_archive.html

http://www.babycenter.com/0_flying-with-small-children-checklist-of-questions-to-ask-you_1460940.bc
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WE'RE GOING TO NEED A BIGGER NIPPLE


We arrived home this evening to our seasoned babysitter feeding our little boy on the sofa. They both looked very much at home and comfortable. It only took a couple of minutes for the babysitter to let us know we were going to need a bigger nipple for our baby bottles. She announced that at almost 5 months old, Conor is sucking so hard to get the milk out of the bottle that he's wearing himself out and falling asleep before he gets the proper amount of milk. She then looked into her crystal ball and told us if he was getting the proper amount of milk that he probably wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night but instead could well sleep a full 10 hours without waking up. Valerie and I looked at each other and knew as soon as we got the babysitter out of the house that we were headed to Babies R' Us to get some bigger nipples. We'll soon find out if we get to sleep through the night. I'm starting to count sheep as I write this.

To find out how to buy bottles and nipples,
click here.
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CONOR IS WRESTLING BULLS INSTEAD OF COUNTING SHEEP

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As Conor sneaks up on 5 months old, he is finally starting to play with his stuffed animals. And one of my favorites is Bevo. This beloved Longhorn was given to him by my longtime friend, Pat Vires, whom I went to UT with many years ago. After all these years, she hasn’t forgotten me and now needs to meet Conor. We travel to Austin on Thursday so he’s been wrestling Bevo while I sing, “The Eyes of Texas”. He laughs now but just wait until I introduce him to a real Longhorn. Then we’ll see how much cowboy he has in his blood.
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POO WILL SOMEHOW BRING THEM TOGETHER

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Yesterday, i was taking care of Conor while mom was out having lunch with a friend. I was trying to clean up my website which had bogged down because of content. I was mulit-tasking because I still had to watch the 4 month old while I boiled his bottles for the barrage of eating that was sure to take place throughout the day.

If you’ve been following this blog, you know we also have a 7-year old dog that has taken well to Conor. We keep tabs on them all the time so there’s never any chance of incidents. But I doubt if that would ever happen. Just the same, I was watching as El Dog would walk by Conor in his bouncy chair now and again and lick Conor’s toes, hands or face on a drive-by. At some point I noticed El Dog was spending more time licking Conor’s toes than the other drive-by’s. I watched for a few seconds and decided to get a closer look. Turns out El Dog wasn’t licking Conor’s feet but instead, had found a little diaper leak and was interested in more than toes. I pushed the disgusting mutt aside and whisked Conor up for a diaper change.

Why is it that one man’s disgust is another dog’s delicacy?
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ONLY 10 HOURS AND 52 MINUTES UNTIL BEDTIME

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Im sitting in here with Conor at my feet at 8am on a Sunday morning. You see, Valerie and I have a daily ritual; she gets up in the middle of the night for his feeding and at the first crack of light, it’s my turn to get up because he’s not going back to bed and she gets the last attempt at sleep before the day grabs us by the hair and pulls us around for the next 11 hours making us do this and that.

I’ve already fed him, changed his diaper, sang him songs and made bodily functional noises for which his mother rolls her eyes as I teach him the humor of the male species.. Now he’s only got 10 hours and 52 minutes left until he goes back to bed for the night. It’s not easy to keep a 4 month old entertained.
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ONLY TIME WILL TELL

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Every morning before I go to work I give Conor is very own concert. We start out with Twinkle, Twinkle plucked on the high strings. Then we move into “Desire,” I song I wrote years ago that the Dixie Chicks picked up and recorded. This is his favorite song and his arms wave and his feet kick the guitar as I play. Then we move on to “Pearl Handled Pistols” in which is grins as if he’s an old gun slinger reincarnated. And finally, I sing a song I wrote for him when he was 3 weeks old called, “What can little boys do when they try.” This puts him in a great mood for me to leave for work and hand the boy over to his mother. I wonder if he’s taking all this in to be a guitar player one day. He watches my fingers make the chords as if he’s memorizing them at 4 months old. Only time will tell.
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MY SON JUST REACHED OUT TO ME FOR THE FIRST TIME

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Today was a long day like most days at the agency. And the long ride home in the traffic gives me a chance to run the daily grind around in my head one last time before sugar plums erase just enough of the 9 to 5 so that I naively do it again the next day. So as I pulled up to the house and grabbed by computer bag and unlocked the door, I heard my wife call from upstair, “Hi honey.”

I dropped my bag and coat on the couch and headed upstairs where my son and wife were busy at the changing table. As soon as i said hi, my son smiled and reached out with both hands to be held. It’s the first time he’s ever done this and almost brought me to tears. I was speechless. I grabbed him up and squeezed him and looked at my wife and said, “Did you see that? You saw that right?” She laughed and her eyes turned red. “He loves you. You know that.” Yeah, but he reached out and acknowledged me and demonstrated some kind of love for me. Wow.

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THE MAYOR JUST SHOOK MY SON'S HAND

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In a strange set of circumstances, we found ourselves at a party with the Mayor of Quincy tonight where I introduced him to a group of concerned neighborhood residents. Mayor Koch is a very nice man and did the next best thing to kissing babies, he shook Conor’s little hand. Conor also got to meet Massachusetts Representative Bruce Ayers and his lovely wife, Maureen. In a failed attempt, Maureen tried to kidnap Conor and he was reunited with his parents in about 2 seconds flat.
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MY FOUR-MONTH OLD STILL HAS BLUE EYES

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Every day for 4 months now I've awaken to see my son with beautiful blue eyes. But brown eyes run in my family and brown is a dominant eye color. And it's well known that a baby's eyes can change colors up until 6 months old whereby the dye is cast. So the big question is, will Conor's eyes turn blue in the next 6 weeks?
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MY SON JUST APPLIED FOR HIS PASSPORT TODAY

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In front of me. A woman and her two children were doing the same. The boy was about 8 and the little girl was around 3. The mom was trying to get her son to hold the 3-year old's hand and the boy was too busy playing his portable video game. She kept getting more angry with him and insistent that he hold her hand. He looked at her and said defiantly, " That's not going to happen." she looked at him and asked what he said and he confidently repeated it. She looked back in her bag and went back to looking for something that she never seemed to find. I was so stressed and irritated at this behavior that I thought I was going to come out of my skin. I kept thinking really loud, just whack that boy and let him know you mean what you say. But she never did. And I looked at my wife and I looked at my 4 month old and clearly understood I am not capable of accepting this kind of behavior from my child. I also realize that the only way I could think to correct that child was to whack him; something I hope I never feel the need to do to my own child. Which is why it’s another good reason for me to start a dads group here in Quincy so that fathers can get together and talk about how to be better dads.
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IS OUR 4-MONTH OLD TEETHING ALREADY

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Babies usually get their first white cap of teeth showing between the ages of four and seven months of age. Some late bloomers may not have any teeth show up for a year. The baby teeth usually show up as two on the bottom followed by two on the top. Then the teeth on the sides and back show up. They may show up crooked but they usually adjust themselves and straighten out. By the age of three, usually all 20 baby teeth are in. These will last until 6 years old when they will begin to fall out and the permanent teeth will come in and last until around the age of 80 when they will fall out again and you're left to eat soft foods at the local Picadilly cafeteria.

Interestingly, experts disagree on whether teething has any symptoms at all. Some say you can expect;
Drooling
Low fever
Gum swelling and sensitivity
Biting motions
A desire to chew on everything
Fussiness
Refusing food
Sleep problems
Diarrhea

Others say this may well just be a coincidence. But if you see symptoms like fever or diarrhea, you should consult your pediatrician.

To relieve the pain for a teething baby, give him or her a cold wash cloth to chew on, or a hard rubber teething ring. You can even chill it but don't freeze it. If your child is old enough to eat, try applesauce or yogurt. Even rubbing your finger firmly but gently across her gums at two- minute intervals

Rubbing the gums with a topical ointment is also an option but you should talk to your pediatrician first. Sometimes, the ointment can get back into the throat and numb the area that triggers the cough reflex. This is necessary for when a baby' drool works it's way into a baby's throat and needs to be cleared.

What's cool is that you can also relieve the pain by simply distracting the child by rocking, cuddling or talking to him. By playing music or reading a story.

If your baby is like most and has excessive drooling, avoid dehydration by replacing lost fluids with diluted juice or water. Also, keep your baby's face and clothes dry to prevent rashes or irritation. A bib is great way to help protect clothing from wetness.
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THREE DAYS ALONE WITH MY SON

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An exhilarating weekend with my 12-week old son wouldn’t be a complete description of what it was really like. It was a bonding experience that I will never forget. It was also extremely tiring, challenging and funny. Here is a recount of this last weekend.

My wife left for a 3-day seminar at 8am while Conor and I waved goodbye from our rocking chair. He was eating and I was holding one eye open while the other tried to catch up on the last bit of sleep that never seems to be enough. I was plenty used to waking up at 6-8am in the morning to feed him. Pretty much every morning. But on weekdays, I leave for work and hand Conor to his mom as he is wide awake after this feeding. And on the weekends, I play with him until about 11am when my wife leisurely wakes up and I hand her the child as I’m ready for a break.

But this weekend, there was no hand-off. He was all mine. For about the first two months of Conor’s existence, it was pretty easy, relatively speaking, to keep up with him. He was either sleeping, eating, pooping or burping. That was it. So I knew how to keep him happy by feeding him, rocking him, changing him or burping him. But something had happened in the last month that I hadn’t realized. After Conor wakes up at 6am, he doesn’t really sleep again until 9:30pm. If you do the math (and I had to count on my fingers), that’s 15 hours of infant entertainment that he’s counting on.

I sang to him and talked with him until I couldn’t stand the sound of my own voice anymore. Seriously, at some point as much as I wanted to tell him things and make commentary about what the dog was doing, I just didn’t want to hear myself anymore. I wrote Conor a song when he was 3 weeks old and I don’t care if I never hear that song again. If I never sing the words, “Twinkle little star," it’ll be too soon. My back was hurting from carrying him around and my head was hurting from thinking up ways to make him stop crying at times when feeding, changing and burping were no longer the instigators.

And that was just day one. After that, I realized I needed to regroup, just me, myself and I. This one-man show 15 hours a day was unsustainable. There was a new sheriff in town and things were going to be different around here. let’s mark ‘em off;

1. We initiated nap times. (I tried more but no luck.) I discovered that 11:30, approximately 5 hours after he’d been awake, he was willing to take a short 30 minute nap. And when he slept, my gosh, so did I. The second nap came around 3:30. This nap interestingly enough, lasted a glorious hour and a half. Like the first, I took full advantage and slept too.

2. Second, I needed to discover some more patterns out to maximize our efforts for play. These included;
a. guitar playing for about 20 minutes. He loves to hear “Twinkle, Twinkle LIttle Star” plucked on the guitar high up on the neck. He never ever failed smile at this. We then follow the concert up with a song I once wrote for the Dixie Chicks called, “Desire”. this is an adult song and he acts like one when I play it. He gets serious but is intrigued, He then will wave his arms and kick his feet, totally involved. During the weekend, I wrote a song for him called, “Big Dreams” and the recurring phrase is “Smiling, we just kept smiling”. Whenever I say this word, he breaks into a huge smile and kicks and flails his arms. It’s hilarious. Then we end the concert with...you guessed it, “Twinkle, Twinkle” plucked on the guitar. I tried playing the concertina for him (an Irish accordion) but he sticks his bottom lip out. He’s right, I suck at it.

b. I put him on my wife’s pillow and I lay down next to him and I read to him Mother Goose stories. Georgie Porgy makes him laugh but I have no idea why. I can read about 4 or 5 stories and after about 5 to 10 minutes he loses interest. But hey, that’s 10 minutes of laughter, bonding and quiet.

c. Next, we move to the crib gym, a gym i had as a kid. My mom sent it to me when Conor was born and he loves that thing. They don’t have them in the stores because they’ve probably been deemed too dangerous but I’m still alive and so is he. this can maybe last 20 minutes and since he can do this on his own, it gives me a chance to go downstairs and boil the bottles that have been collecting.

d. After the gym, he needs his diaper changed. Must be all that straining. After that, its time for a feeding. And if it’s not nap time thereafter, then we’ll move to the mat for tummy time where he lays on his tummy and in order to look around must pick his head up. This strengthens his neck muscles, which are getting stronger by the day.

e. I then just pick him up and walk him around the house, looking out the window and talking to the dog. He likes climbing the stairs. Must be the bouncing action. We do this for about 15 minutes and then I put him in his lounging chair and buckle him up. This allows him to look around while I prepare lunch, take a shower, clean the kitchen, living room or bedroom.

f. Sometimes, he just had to hang out on his own in his crib while I got stuff done like bathroom breaks, telephone calls, emails, etc.

3. Thirdly, I realized I couldn’t come a calling every time he cried or else I might as well have him superglued to me. So I decided sometimes when he cried, if I knew he had been fed, changed and burped that he was in no real need. I would look into his crib to make sure he was in no danger and then i let him cry. That is not easy to do for a new dad. But I decided it was in the best interest for both of us to get this part of the partnership. (This was actually how the nap part got instigated. I realized twice when I put him in the crib and left him alone that he fell asleep. Once he did it, I knew he’d do it again. And planned according to the clock the exact same scenario the following day and it worked. That was five days ago now, and it’s still working much to the delight of my wife!)

By the time the weekend had come to a close, I felt that I had gotten to know my son better. That we had found new ways to communicate with repeatability. And that by instituting some new changes like nap times, that I had contributed to the family in a meaningful way.

Now I’m on a plane to Germany to shoot two short documentary-like films as I leave behind my wife and son for the second time. It’s difficult but it makes it easier after spending three intense days with Conor. It’s actually more difficult leaving my wife this time because I finally know what its like for her to go through this every day of every week, not just three days. For her patience, love and understanding, I am grateful.
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MY SON LOOKS LIKE A TURTLE

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At 11 weeks old, our boy is starting to pick up his own head and look around. He looks kind of like a drunk turtle as he stretches his neck out. His head bobbles and weaves and occasionally, if he's looking over my shoulder, his neck muscles give out and he head butts me and starts crying.

The pediatrician says babies needs "tummy time" a few sessions a day starting at 8 weeks old so that their neck muscles develop properly. This means we put Conor on his stomach and tuck his arms up close to his body so he can use them to lift his head up. We do this but he doesn’t much like it. He lasts about three minutes then starts crying as his neck muscles lose their strength and he does a face plant into the rug. He looks at me as if it's all my fault and I try to blame it on the pediatrician but he's no longer paying attention.

Experts say a baby can lift its head up at about one month of age. It can hold it’s head up while sitting at 4 months of age. And will have complete control at about six months of age.

Every time I read a statistic about child growth, I measure my own son up to it. And as usual, he’sright on schedule. Ah, that’s my boy.

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MY FOUR MONTH OLD ISN'T AFRAID OF FIREWORKS

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Its’ New Year’s Eve and there’s a fireworks display just down the street in Waterville, New Hampshire. So we bundle Conor up, and with our friends Carolina and Waldek, we head over to watch. Suddenly, the sky lit up and the noise sounded like a gunfight in Kabul. Conor peeked out from his blanket and watched quietly. He never peeped and never squirmed. He just watched quietly.

Do babies have no fear of the unknown or was he just mesmerized by the pretty colors? Hmmm...

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OUR 8-MONTH OLD JUST TAUGHT ME THE MEANING OF LIFE

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I woke up early Saturday morning to the whimpering of our 8 week old son, Conor. The past week had been busy and I was tired and exhausted. I rolled out of bed and groggily reached down to pick up the little noise maker. As I held him in my arms, he locked his deep blue eyes on to mine. And grinned mischievously. I froze. I was unable to unlock my eyes from his. He can’t speak but yet he told me all there was to the meaning of life; This is it. This is all there is. What happened yesterday no longer matters. What will happen tomorrow isn’t important. All that counts is right now.

And for two eternal minutes we lived in the truth. We shared with each other all there was to communicate. And then he farted and turned to stare at a crack in the wall I keep forgetting to repaint. I gave him a bottle, he went to back to sleep, and I headed out the door to a meeting. With Conor and happiness on my mind.
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OUR NURSE'S SECRETS ON HOW TO KEEP A NEWBORN HAPPY


Before we left the hospital, the nurses were kind enough to give me a cheat sheet on how to take care of my newborn. The nurses said to me, “If Conor’s crying, there’s only 4 things that might be wrong. Go down the list in this order and you’ll have a happy baby;

1. Check his diaper
2. Try burping him to see if he has gas
3. Check his temp if he appears sickly.
4. Feed him.

This has worked for a month now. We simply go down the list until we get to ‘feed him’. After that, if he’s sleeping, we put him in his crib. If he’s still fussy, we burp him and sing to him until he falls asleep. If he stays awake and stares at us, we stare back and have a nonverbal conversation. If he continues to cry after being burped. We start over on the list above. It’s that simple.

Oh, and when we’re not just hanging out with him, we keep him swaddled. Swaddling is key. Be sure to visit the “How To” link about swaddling and also the video on how to swaddle.

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WHAT REALLY HAPPENS DURING LABOR

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After going off the air since October 8th when my wife was knee deep in labor, I am able to return to DadsDecoded.com and continue my learnings as a new father in search of answers to be a better dad.

Looking back at my last post, it’s surreal to see where my head was at and what actually happened in the delivery room.

As you may remember, after 3 1/2 hours of Valerie trying to endure and work with induced contractions, the nurses were relieved to hear Valerie say she would accept an epidural. And within 20 minutes she was doing so much better. She could once again carry on a conversation, smile and even eat lemon ice from a cup.

And then night turned into morning. And then the afternoon followed. Still, the contractions were not powerful enough to help the baby descend. And as the afternoon begin to see the sun set again from our picturesque MGH window view, 32 hours after labor had begun, Valerie had finally dilated to the point where the final push could begin. It was 5:00pm. We all hoped it might take an hour but the truth is, most first time pregnancies can go for as long as 3 hours. Well, I just figured my red-headed Irish wife wasn’t like most women and we’d birth this baby in one hour. All I can say is, all the hours of birthing classes and birthing videos wouldn’t prepare me for what I was about to witness.

The nurse began to explain to Valerie how she was supposed to push. The idea was to wait until a contraction began to build. As it builds, her job was to take a deep breath then push with all her might. Then do it two more times in the course of the 40-60 second contraction. Then rest up for the next contraction which could come within 2 minutes of the last one.

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And so the first contraction began to build. And Valerie took a deep breath and started her push. My eyes got huge. I’ve never seen my wife in so much pain as she gathered her strength and pushed. My adrenaline started to rush and I wondered, “What the hell can I do to help my wife? Shit, look at her trying so hard.” And the nurse coached her, reminding her that this was the real deal.

And with that, I remembered the breathing exercises from class, the hypnotherapy classes I took as a college student, and even the coaching from my tennis days. At that moment I decided to become my wife’s personal breathing coach.

The next contraction was starting and she was no longer breathing alone as I was there to breathe with her. I told her to take a deep breath and then to push with purpose. To push with a focus of where that baby was coming out. She gulped in a fresh breath of air and began to push. She turned red, her eyes closed, she grimaced and pushed with more might. I told her to focus. To be strong. She let out the last of her breath and sucked in another and pushed again. I was six inches from her face telling her to do it for Conor. It was time for him to come out. She pushed like a mother does when she’d do anything for her child.
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The last of her air escaped like a hurricane on crack and she quickly sucked in another breath. I reminded her it was the last push and then she got to take a break. She started the next push. And I whispered to her that she was a strong woman and could do this. I told her I believed in her and was right there with her. As she began to run out of air, the nurse told her to hold it. I told her to give Conor that extra bit of air. She kept pushing beyond her comfort zone. And then I told her to let it go. She started to cry but I knew that crying would take her out of the zone. And she was definitely in the zone like I’ve never seen her before. So I quickly told her, “That was great honey. You’re in control of your breathing. Slow it down now. Slow it down. This is your time. This is your time to relax. That was Conor’s time. Now it’s your time. You get to relax. Slow those breath’s down now.” And Valerie, as a great athlete listens to her coach, slowed her breaths down. And when I asked her to take a deep breath to increase the calming affect, she did so with great control and authority.

And the next contraction began to build. She would whisper ever so softly, “Here it comes,” and the nurse would get down where she could see things and start her coaching which would set me into motion six inches from her face. I would say, “Okay, your time is now Conor’s time. You need to push and get that boy out of there. It’s time. And she would take her breath and push with meaning. I would say, “Focus that breath. That breath has a purpose. Be strong. Push, Push, Push, Valerie. Good. Let it out. Take another big breath and let’s do it again.” And again, she would grab a big breath out of the air and use it for herself, focusing it downwards where the baby needed to come out. And I would tell her kindly, “Push, push, push. Be strong, be strong Val.” Earlier in her pregnancy, Valerie had told me that her name means, “healthy and strong” so I had tucked this phrase away knowing I would use it on this day so that this as a private bonding word that would give her extra strength for the most important moment of her life and that of our first son.

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It worked with more meaning than I could imagine. She dug extra deep. Again, it was time to rest. Again, Valerie needed to cry from the excruciating effort she was asked to muster. I never took a break from my job as coach. Just as in the moments of pushing, the moments of relaxing were coached by me. I reminded her to stay in control even as she relaxed. To take deep breaths. Get rid of the old air and breath in fresh air. Out with old, in with the new. Slow. Deliberate. Relax. This is her time. The other breaths were Conor. These breaths were for her. Every breath is renewed strength. In just a few breaths she would have the exact amount of strength as when we started. I told her she was not getting tired but getting stronger.

Well, this repetition went on for 3 hours without fail. The clock was directly above her head so I watched every minute roll by as I hovered over her bed. My back hurt. My feet hurt. I was concerned from the lack of progress made by Conor coming down the birth canal. I was devastated at the pain endured by my wife. But my focus never waivered.

Our nurse, Susan was excited by the intensity of the process and at some point invited me to look at the progress of Valerie’s efforts and I will admit that in spite of my brother instructing me not to “look south or else you’ll faint,” I looked to see my son’s head and hair not far from this world. He was getting close to being born. This caused me renewed vigor to coach my wife into breathing with determination and focus. And she responded like few people would do. And remained in the zone as she had done with her first breath over three hours ago.

Finally, the doctor came in to see how close the baby was to birth. Her news was not good. We all took a break to hear her description of the situation. She reported that the baby had moved into the birth canal but had not come down far enough for her to use other techniques to coax the baby out. She was getting concerned. She asked Valerie if she was ready to call it quits. She said that most women who had pushed for three hours were ready to give up and she would recommend that we strongly consider doing the same.

Valerie said that she wanted to give birth without surgery if at all possible. The doctor looked exasperated but wanted to be true to Valerie’s wishes, too. She was clearly concerned and was trying to balance the safety of the baby and the wishes of Valerie. She took about 10 seconds to think it over. She then said that her staff was leaving the room for two minutes and for Valerie and I to talk it over. But to realize the health of the baby would soon be at stake. Val wanted to ask her another question as the doctor began to leave but the doctor turned around sternly and said, “You have two minutes to think this over. It’s your decision but I won’t put this baby in danger. Time starts now,” and with that she turned on her heels pulling the nurses out with her. I was surprised at the doctor’s attitude but realized she was sending the body language to us that this was serious and that bedside manner be damned.

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Valerie and I were left with deep questions to answer that affected the life of our baby and the health of Valerie. I first asked Val what she wanted to do after hearing the doctor’s recommendations. Valerie said it meant so much to her to have a ‘traditional birth’ that she didn’t want to have her baby surgically removed. I told her that she had been strong. That she had been brave. That I loved her so so much for everything she had done to bring our baby into this world. And if she wanted to try for a little longer that I would back her. But that if she was ready to get this whole ordeal over with that I would back the decision to have a c-section. She said it would mean a long recovery and she might not be able to care for the baby like she planned. I told her I would take up all the slack and that she would never have to worry about the baby being taken care of. She said if the baby’s health wasn’t at risk, that she’d like a little more time to push. I asked her if she had the strength to do it. She said she was ready. I called the nurse back in.

We told the nurse if our baby wasn’t in danger and could safely take another series of pushes that we wanted to keep trying but not at the expense of our baby’s health. The doctor was surprised. “You want to keep trying even after 3 hours of intense pushing, Valerie? I’m telling you, no one’s going to blame you for giving up after 3 hours.” Valerie looked at the doctor and said, “I’m not giving up. I want more time. I can do this.” The doctor was impressed and shook her head with appreciation. “I’ll give you 1/2 an hour more time, Valerie. We can do that much safely. After that, if there’s no change in Conor’s progress, I’m taking over the decision making, okay?” We both whole heartedly agreed to give her the last say after this.

And the pushing began again. The coaching started anew. And this time, Valerie didn’t cry between pushes. Instead, she gathered her wits, her breaths and her courage. And pushed with a determination to which I never knew she had. I call it the American pioneer woman spirit. I was always impressed with how the female pioneers of America would cross the country in a wagon or walking and do so without whining, crying or collapsing. They would give birth along the way, endure starvation, go weeks without a bath and walk in dirty clothes and crappy shoes. I like a beautiful woman as much as the next man but I like to know my wife has what it takes to survive if the time ever demanded it. My wife in this last half hour proved to me that I had married a woman who was 100% woman when times allowed and had that pioneer spirit when that was asked of her.

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After 1/2 hour went by, the doctor glanced at the clock and studied Valerie’s determination. And with renewed interest began to coax Val to push as hard as she ever had pushed in her whole life. And as Valerie pushed, the doctor showed excitement and my adrenaline began to pump even more as I saw her interest in what was happening. After 50 minutes, the doctor told us all to take a break. She then pulled off her gloves and gave us the latest; “Valerie, you’ve been pushing for another 50 minutes and while you’ve done everything I’ve asked you to do and your pushing was textbook perfect, Conor’s just not coming down the birth canal. I can’t tell you why he’s not. I only know he’s not moving. Maybe he’s too big. Maybe he’s positioned in a way that not right with how your pelvis is shaped. But it’s time to get Conor out of there now. We’re going to do a c-section and we’re doing it right now. The baby is still safe right now. His heart rate has not changed. He’s taking all this in stride. Let’s get him out of there before we have any sort of surprises.

I’m going to get ready and the nurse is going to explain what’s going to happen next. Next time I see you, you’ll have a brand new baby boy. And with that, she turned and left.

(SEE NEXT BLOG FOR WHAT HAPPENS NEXT)
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WHEN TRADITIONAL LABOR TURNS C-SECTION


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As the doctor left our delivery room after 36 hours of labor, the nurse prepared Valerie for the operating room. Both Valerie and I felt defeated. For all the effort, the tears and the energy, Val would have to undergo a c-section which meant that she would not get to experience traditional childbirth or get to see the baby right away. She would also not get to breastfeed immediately. And of course, it would take much longer to recover.

Valerie spent a few minutes trying to wrap around the new plan that was now underway. I was concerned that both Val and our son’s health were now in jeopardy. The doctor assured me everything would be fine. The nurse explained that I was to put on the scrubs that an orderly had brought into the room. As soon as the surgery was underway, a nurse would escort me into the operating room. The nurse explained it would be in my best interest not to look at Valerie until they had positioned me behind the curtain where it was safe to look about. With that, they wheeled Valerie out of sight and I was left alone with my thoughts.

I took the moment while waiting for the nurse to come get me to call my dad to tell him what was happening. We had recently mended fences after years of separation and it was good to confide in him my nervousness about what was happening from a husband/father point of view. My dad listened compassionately and gave me words of encouragement. I won't lie, I spoke with tears in my eyes and sniffles and in true form dad told me to pull it together. I didn't really appreciate that comment to be honest. I had pulled it together for 36 hours of seeing my wife in pain. I needed a moment to share my real emotions and while he listened sympathetically, I think he thought I was not handling the situation with confidence and of course I was. But even the strongest people need to share their true feeling with someone. Still, I knew my dad was just trying to remind me that I had to be strong for Valerie and he didn't know these tears were my moment to get rid of them so I could put on the confident, positive face in just three more minutes. I didn’t scold him for his comment. I took it in the spirit it was given. We hung up as the nurse said that it was time to bring the baby into this world. I put on my surgical mask and hair net and didn't even think about how they wear these same nets at McDonald’s and The Picadilly Cafeteria.

When we entered the OR, it was really busy. It seems there were about 8 people standing around Valerie and I didn't dare look. I already know her inside and out but didn't want to know literally. I thought I saw some body organs sitting off to the side but I'm hoping I was wrong. I went to Valerie’s side and asked her how she was dinged she smiled through tears. I asked if there was anything i could do. She whispered, “Could you please say a Hail Mary for us.” So I started to say a very quiet "Hail Mary." Then I realized she was saying it with me so I said it a little louder. Then I realized I could barely hear her because of the suction of the machine sucking at her body fluids on the other side of the curtain. There were machines beeping, doctors barking out orders and swooshing sounds of body liquids. I started praying louder so she wouldn't hear the sounds of her inner body being opened, pulled and sucked. As Val laid on the table, her body was being jostled as they pulled the baby out of the birth canal and back up into the womb. You could hear the doctor directing the other doctor as if he were an air traffic controller guiding a plane in for a landing. I left the "Hail Mary’s for a few "Our Father's." It helped drown out the noise and it begin to give me confidence again. Valerie was strong and said her prayers right with me. Then the tugging stopped and the chatter got quiet. Suddenly a baby's cry filled the room like an opera singer at the MET. It was the most beautiful sound in the whole world. And instantly, our prayers had been answered. We prayed with more vigor now, thanking God for the gift he had just bestowed on us.

The doctors and nurses cheered and hollered congratulations to us. There was laughter and ooing and ahhing. A nurse hollered "8 lbs 14 oz.” Then a nurse came to our side of the curtain and told me to grab my camera so I could meet our new son. I grabbed the camera and walked over to the warming table where a kind African American nurse was finishing cleaning off my son, Conor. She asked me if I would like to cut the umbilical cord. After all we had been through, cutting an umbilical cord didn't seem all that queezy to me so I grabbed the scissors and cut the cord that separated my son from his mother. He was now a free man. I snapped more pictures but found it very hard to wrap my head around the fact that he was my son. It just wouldnt sink in. Regardless, I knew that he must be mine and so I kept talking to him as if he were.

Then Nurse Amy came over we took the baby over so Val could see him. Valerie had a big smile on her face and she looked longingly at our new son. Her arms had been strapped to the table so that she didn't accidentally move during the delicate surgery which now meant that she couldn't hold the baby. At least she could see him and talk to him. I took pictures and even a little bit of video to record the moment for all time. Only one time in your whole life will you have a first child and look into his eyes for the first time and this was that moment. And it was indeed momentous. It was surreal. Our lives as we knew it would never be the same again after this moment. A lot to take in and it flooded forth like the waters over the New Orleans levies during hurricane Katrina. I continued to take pictures as if I could slow down time in bite sizes so I take it all in. The responsibilities continued to pour in faster than i could sort them out. Little did I know that two weeks later I would still be trying to sort it out and wrap my head around the awesome responsibility I now faced.

Finally, a nurse came over and explained that because Valerie had gotten a slight fever during labor that the baby needed to be checked out further in the nursery and would have to be treated with antibiotics to ward off any infections that might ensue. I asked the nurse if I could come with her. She explained it was against hospital policy but that she would reunite us soon. I hated hearing that and I think it's wrong that a dad can't accompany his newborn when he undergoes a few tests in the nursery. But now was not the time to make a scene and I was just so happy that he was alive that I let him go with the nice nurse.

As they begin to sew Valerie back up, I was invited to go back to the delivery room we had been holed up in for the last two days and the nurses explained that Valerie would be along shortly. I got back to the room feeling relieved after all that had happened after 36 hours of labor. I remember leaving my dad only minutes ago concerned for the safety and health of Valerie and our son so I decided to call him first to tell him everything was okay and that everyone was safe and healthy. He was not only relieved but also touched that he was the first one to hear the good news. I think for a new dad to call his dad to tell him his new son is alive and well is a nice passing of the torch. We said goodbye and two proud fathers were left with our own thoughts. Soon, Valerie returned to the room and we looked at each other proudly and compassionately. We now knew each other more closely and intimately than ever before. Valerie had been to the brink of what is humanly possible and I stood with her every step of the way, never leaving her side for so much as a bathroom break or a moment to rest my aching back. It all seemed so trivial compared to her efforts.

Now I could sit back as she lay back. The nurses brought our son back into the room and they placed her on Valerie's chest. Our family was back together. And I never let either of them out my sight until we left the hospital five days later.

And that is how our family of three began its journey together on October 9, 2011.



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MY BROTHER IS GOING TO BE AN UNCLE


My brother is a former United States Marine. He’s a father of four and is one year younger than me. I had flown into Austin for an interactive conference and was trying desperately to see him before I flew out. Hell, I had some news to tell him. For years he kept asking, ‘When am I going to be an uncle? It would have been a pain in the ass to hear anyone else asking that question except from my bother, Michael. Finally, my wife and I met him at Whataburger for lunch. He showed us a picture of a sick red leather couch he just bought. I matched it by whipping out the dang sonogram of his nephew (or niece, not sure yet). He looked at us like we had just told him we’d won the lottery. His eyes got a little watery and I would have sworn he liked the sonogram better than his brand new sofa. I offered to help him get the sofa into the house if he’d help me get the baby out. That’s where he drew the line.
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