He sits alone, looking through the bars and the mesh at the world outside. He contemplates the meaning of words like "freedom," "emancipation," and "dadadadadadadada!" He dreams of the day when he may free himself from the bondage of infancy. Standing up would be a good start. Or even crawling forward.
Yoni Speizer is something of a martyr. With few intelligible words, he speaks a language we all understand. Sometimes.
He is a prisoner... yet he is pampered. Literally. He wears size 3 pampers, and he is spoon-fed. One wonders who is actually in control, the captive or the captors? I recently interviewed Mr. Speizer about his placement in a new containment facility. Here is what he had to say.
He subsequently took my shoe and began to eat it:
I can only assume he is not well-fed by his captors. It is hard to imagine that people are treated this way on a daily basis. You can see how such treatment has turned Yoni Speizer from a kind, sweet child into this:
On Sunday, Kate, Yoni, and I drove to Baltimore with one of Kate's co-workers for a conference related to her work. True to form, in spite of all our list-making, we forgot a few things. So everyone get out your baby trip list and add a rain cover for your stroller and swim diapers if you're staying someplace with a pool.
The ride down was uneventful except for a wonderful meet-up with my friends Mike and Annie and their son Alex. We knew we'd be driving near-by on the way, so they suggested a diner right off the highway. It was a real treat because Mike and Annie hadn't met Yoni before. Everone had a good time, and Alex and Yoni had a deep discussion about the pros and cons of digital photography. Elmo joined in, too.
Since my parents live only a day's drive from Baltimore, they came to meet us and spend a couple days. They didn't have any fun with Yoni at all. Eventually, my folks had to go home, and Yoni and I were left to our own devices while Kate worked. Our time together was really incredible, and I don't just mean on a personal level. I believe that some of the things Yoni and I did and discussed may very well lead us to a Nobel Prize. Without sharing too many details, I'd like to offer the following clip to give you some insight into the profound nature of the ideas Yoni and I discussed in Baltimore.
We also went swimming. That was a lot of fun because Yoni held me up in the water and I got to splash around! Oh, wait. That's not what happened. But I am sure that there was no one else in the pool, and it was heated, so it felt like we were in a giant bathtub together, only it was chlorinated and no one was naked.
The last month or so has been full of road trips for the Speizers. In mid-November, we drove to New York City, where Kate had a training for work. It was a great opportunity for us to get out of Ithaca, and a really good time to begin learning about how to take a baby on a trip.
Like one thing we learned about was the baby list. We now have a running list of things we need to bring on a trip for Yoni in order for the trip to go smoothly. The list isn't set in stone, but it gives us a good idea of what we need so that we don't end up saying something like, "Shit! I forgot the diapers!"
The current incarnation of our list looks like this:
Food
Bottle stuff
Disposable Bibs
Spoons
Baby Food
Cereal
Vitamins
Washcloths
Bath
BodyWash
Shampoo
Scrubbie
Towels
Washcloths
Clothes
Sleepers
Pants
Onesies
Socks
Boots
Sweater
Hats
Snowsuit/Jacket
Other Stuff
Burb Rags
Bibs
Lovey
Blankets
Sheet
Books
Toys
Stroller
Ergo
PacknPlay
Diaper Bag
High Chair
Diapers
Wipes
Plastic baggies
Now you might be thinking, "Holy crap! Where do they fit it all?!" But a whole lot of it is standard stuff we carry around. Okay, maybe not the high chair, but a lot of stuff fits in a diaper bag, and you have a small bag for food. Plus, Yoni's clothes are very small.
Oh, wait. Those clothes fit a paper doll of Michael Jackson... Okay, so his stuff takes up a little bit of space. In fact, we're getting a rental car for our next trip, and we are praying they don't give us some little hatchback, because we need to give someone else a ride, and we'd like to think that we can fit everyone in the car with all our stuff. God, if only all the things babies needed were electronic! Then they could be multi-functional and they wouldn't take up so much space.
Anyway, we've learned a couple of other things about road trips, like the mathematical equation for how long it takes to get anywhere: For every 2 hours it would normally take you to get anywhere, add at least 1/2 an hour to that. That kid's gotta eat, and you are not going to be very successful feeding him without stopping somewhere. And if you think, "Oh, we're almost there. The baby can eat when we get there." WRONG!!!!! That's when traffic gets heavy and you are going 2 miles per hour and you have 9 miles to your destination and ascreaming baby in the back seat. If you see a rest stop and think, "Hmmmm that's probably the last one for a while," STOP THE CAR!!!!!
It started yesterday afternoon: a little flurry sprinkling the streets and lawns of Ithaca. A sparkle, if you will, added to a grey day. Sparkle my ass!!! There's like 10 inches of snow on the ground, and it hasn't stopped yet! Okay, maybe it stopped for an hour or two, and it's not snowing as much as it was last night, but I pretty much had my fill after kate and I took the little man outside for about 10 minutes. After that, it's the same white crap I remember running down my back at the abrupt end of a snowball fight 25 years ago. I didn't miss it too much.
But this is Ithaca, and here it freakin' snows. Something about this weather made me want to eat bad Chinese food, and that's what I did this afternoon. Lame sesame chicken with lo mein and veggies at a restaurant that calls itself "The Cajun Cafe." Now I don't know about you, but sesame chicken and lo mein are not usually on the menu with jambalaya and gumbo at most Cajun places I have been to. But hell, I love the free samples of bourbon chicken, so who am I to complain? Anyhoo, it's the kind of day where you don't really expect to get much done. Like even my stomach is digesting that Chinese food really slowly today! So I am just trying to make it through with Yoni, who just DOES NOT WANT TO NAP!!!!! I'm at that point where I'm like, "Do I let him cry a little longer, or do I finally just give up and go get him?"
Well, maybe I'll play one more game of Ms. Pacman before I go in there.
Have you seen the commercial where this kid is sitting around with an Atari joystick in his hand? The kid's a flashback to 1982, and he's talking to his present-day self about his best Christmas-gift memory ever: getting that awesome Atari game system back in '82. "Don't give up that memory!" he's shouting. But the present-day guy gives up his best memory for a new one: a Lexus.
Now maybe I've got my priorities screwed up, but I have spent a lot of time lately hankering for games like Space Invaders, PacMan, Pole Position, The Empire Strikes Back. Hell, I'd be happy with Frogger! Not to mention Pitfall, Donkey Kong, or Combat! Man, those games rocked! And it wasn't about the life-like graphics, we all knew that! Who cared about the quality of graphics on a game like DigDug? No, it was the pure skill! The timing, the aches you got from pushing at a non-responsive joystick! Okay, I'd give that part up in a heartbeat. But I miss the console! I miss the cartridges! I miss the era!
I'm not saying I want to give up my life situation here. I got it pretty good, but I would be glad to trade in my many hours of Law and Order re-runs for some time with a classic game console and some great games in the evening.
A couple years back, I bought the Atari Flashback II for my father-in-law. It had a couple good games, like Asteroids and Combat, but overall, it had some crap games, man! Hell, Colecovision's Smurfs game was better than most of what they had on that thing. So what's a guy to do?
Well, I've been doing a little hunting around on the web, and check this out! The Atari Flashback Portable!! It hasn't been released yet, so who knows how long I'll have to wait? But it looks pretty cool. Unless it's going to carry the same stupid games. I guess what I'm looking for is the opportunity to play all the classic old games on my TV, not my computer, for CHEAP!!!!!
What does this all have to do with being a stay-at-home dad? I dunno, I guess I still kinda feel like a stay-at-home kid.
In light of Yoni's incredible love of buttons and switches and things that go "bing," "dong," or "whir," I purchased a Sesame Street Giggle Remote yesterday: Freakin' awesome! This thing makes over 35 sounds. It's got Cookie Monster, Oscar the Grouch, Bert, Ernie, Elmo (fake Sesame Street character if you ask me, but he muscled his way into the spotlight), and some cool sounds, including a car, a guitar and a bunch of numbers, whatever those are for! And if you press the button on the side, the googly eyes close and open with sound effects. This thing is first class. Way frickin' better than the fake keys that cost only 50 cents less but only make four sounds! (Though, I will admit the sound of the car starting sent chills down my spine.)
I showed the Giggle Remote to Yoni, and he loved it, too (not that it matters, as long as I like it). He put it in his mouth, pressed buttons, even figured out in a few seconds where the speaker is. I was duly impressed with the universal appeal of this toy.
Until the phone rang.
When Yoni saw how I spoke to the phone and it clearly was speaking back to me, all the cats, guitars, numbers, Oscars, Berts, Cookie Monsters, Ernies and Elmos in the world couldn't attract Yoni's attention the same way. He dropped his remote and literally propelled himself across the bed towards the phone. That's saying a lot for a kid who can't crawl yet. I'll admit: the phone is damned stylish. I mean, I wish it had googly eyes, but it beeps and rings and lights up, and it speaks with the voices of people I know! It's like it knows how to be them without the people actually being there! God, no wonder he likes the phone! Can you imagine if you had one of these boxes that makes you feel like you are talking to someone you love, who isn't even there?!
Yoni is one interesting little guy! I've been watching him lately as he discovers how things work and what he can do in order to have an effect on his environment. Often, this simply means yelling for Kate's or my attention until he can get us to do what he wants, i.e. pick him up, play with him, or feed him. Other times it means picking two things up and smacking them together to make a noise, over and over and over again.
The other day, he woke up from his morning nap and we started examining his music box together. It's a little thing that's attached to his crib. It plays songs and makes nature sounds. It also has moving animals and lights. Check it out: So my little man is sitting there, and we're looking at this together, and I show him that when he presses the toucan in the bottom right, the whole thing turns on or off. He's fascinated! But that's not all, because over the course of the day, he made the connection with light switches. When I walk into a room with him in my arms, he looks for the light switch in the room. Even though he doesn't have the manual dexterity to move the switch up or down, he wants to touch the switch, and he clearly knows that this little switch is connected to the light on the ceiling or the lamp that's plugged into the wall. It's all one thing to him.
Yoni is a boy all the way. He is particularly enchanted by things that blink, that have buttons, that light up. Basically, all things electronic. If one is not careful in our house, Yoni may be found eating any of the following:
Telephones Remote controls Any and every part of a computer Baby monitor Ipod Cameras Calculators Clocks Radios
It struck me this morning, as I was trying to keep Yoni away from the computer keyboard, that he loves to touch it for the same reason that he loves light switches: he can affect a clear, noticeable change. He sees me press buttons on the keyboard or mouse and things change on the computer screen. He wants that power!!!!! So I took him down to the basement and sat him on my lap in front of my keyboard. It was like I had given him the world! He just went nuts. He was yammering away while he pressed down on the different keys and buttons.
I guess this was something I had seen before. Yoni loves to touch my guitars or my banjo, but I had never put together what was so specifically interesting to him. When he touches something, he is actually able to make something else react. It doesn't matter if it's a light or a music box or a musical instrument or a computer. Yoni has discovered that he has the power to make things happen, and he loves it!
Oh yeah, and straws. For some reason he loves straws.
Anyone who has ever lived within a 90-mile radius of my home is very likely aware that I snore. And we're not talking about some kind of Walt Disney snore either.I'm talking about a sound that the U.S. Army might have used in 1989 to drive Manuel Noriega from his compound and into U.S. custody.
I've always been a snorer. At least since my first time at sleep-away camp. I've been asked kindly to turn over; I've been gently nudged; I've had my nose squeezed; I've had pillows thrown at me; and I've been elbowed in the ribcage. It's all part of a good night's sleep for me.
For years, I thought it had to do with being overweight. Then I lost a lot of weight, but I kept snoring. It never really bugged me so much, so I just kept on snoring away. Sometimes I wake up with a sore throat or my entire uvula hanging down onto my tongue, but other than that, my snoring bugs other people more than it bugs me. Just ask my wife.
Well, Kate, Yoni and I are on a really good insurance plan here in Ithaca. I just mentioned the fact that I snore to my doctor back in August, and he set me up for a sleep study. I went in October. They wired me up with a whole bunch of electrodes and attached me to a battery pack and stuff and then monitored me while I slept.I am used to waking up a couple times a night, so I was a little bit surprised when the doctor told me I had woken up 35 times! PER HOUR!!!!!! No wonder I feel groggy sometimes.
Anyway, after another night spent in the sleep lab, they decided to set me up with a machine called a CPAP. It blows air in through my nose while I sleep so that my airway doesn't collapse in the night.
I was supposed to pick up the machine today, but I had no idea I would also be picking up something at the home care store for another member of my family.
Yoni turned 9 months old today. He's a healthy, happy guy, but he's had a cough for quite a while. We went for his 9-month check-up today and the doc decided to start Yoni on a nebulizer. It's a little machine that turns asthma medicine into steamy goodness for you to breathe in. Yoni did not like it one bit, but we have to do it.
It's hard for me to make Yoni so uncomfortable, but I have a few ways of looking at the bright side of this:
1. The doctor has Yoni taking steroids to clear up his lungs. All the top athletes in the world take steroids, so Yoni is in good company. (I don't know why he doesn't believe me) 2. Now Yoni and I can do some father-son bonding over our breathing equipment.
I guess I got pretty freaked out when Yoni had to wear the mask in the doctor's office and it was hard just to hold him in place while he had this mask on and was screaming. Still, I know as well as anyone else that I am blessed for this to be the extent of life's difficulties. I may be wearing a silly mask and trying to stay happy by sitting in front of funny lamps, but lemme tell ya, I got it made in the shade! Seriously, who else has all this?
Some people save money through investments, but given the volatile state of the market these days, I would like to share how I recently saved some money, while keeping things practical. You see, I realized last night that I have a lot to say about trying to get out the door with a small child, because that one act ties in to so many other aspects of my life these days, even my financial life. It's like the old saying goes: "The devil is in the details." Details like shoe laces. On the day I arrived in Ithaca, (I drove cross-country with my dad, while Kate flew) I went to Dick's Sporting Goods (Ha, Ha!) and bought a sweet pair of North Face hiking boots on clearance. They are great boots. They are comfortable and tough, and they keep my feet dry. I figured I had a good deal. I even asked a sales representative, "Are these going to be good enough to get me through Ithaca winters?" And she told me they were. And they would be. Except for the laces.
Try to picture this scene: our house has a mud room, where we keep all our dirty shoes. (Oh, THAT'S why they call it a mud room! Never thought of that!) So I'm on my way out the door, but first I have to put on a hat, put the diaper bag on my back (I hope I didn't forget the nipple), realize I forgot to put on a jacket, take off the diaper bag, put on a jacket, put on the diaper bag, put a hat on the baby, pick him up, make sure I have my phone (check), wallet (check), keys (check) and then make it to the mud room to put on my boots. Only I am holding a baby, and I don't have a free hand to tie the boots. I could leave them untied, but I hate when my laces get all icy and I don't want to trip over them with a baby in my arms.
So I put him on the floor, tie my boots, head out the door.
Shit! I forgot the baby.
I go back and get Yoni and head out the door again.
This is pretty much the standard routine. Not that I always leave Yoni on the floor, but with all these things to remember, it's hard to keep it all in order. So my philosophy is, the less you have to keep track of, the easier it all will be. Boots are a perfect example: if I can simply slide into my boots, I won't have to put Yoni on the floor, and I won't forget him there.
So I went online and I ordered a pair of slip-on boots. They were a bargain, even lined with sheep skin. They cost $51, plus $10 shipping.
This past Monday, my boots arrived, exactly when I was trying to cook dinner and feed Yoni his first bowl of food which he ate without any help:
I was so excited, but talk about bad timing! When I finally tried them on, they were too tight. So the next day I called the company I bought the boots from and ordered an exchange. Only now, my boots went down in price by $3, and shipping was going to be free. They charged me $6 to return the old boots, but since I wasn't paying to ship the new boots, I was saving $4 on shipping and $3 on the boots. SWEET!!!
Okay, so I'm not saving anyone from foreclosure, and this isn't exactly in the same league as a $700 billion bailout, but cut me some slack. That's like 2 lattes or 5 pints of hot and sour soup. Who's up for some soup? It's on me!
I once wrote a song called "Manpurse." You can hear it on my website if you want, but the point of it is that there was a time when I could just remember that I needed my wallet and my keys and I could walk right out the door. The world was my oyster. I could get in the car, hop on my bike, catch a train, and be anywhere I wanted for as long as I would like. In the song, a new job weighs me down with a phone and a planner, and I decide to solve my conundrum with a manpurse.
Then I had a kid.
It seems now that I am always trying to keep track of the things I need in order to get out of the house and manage with my little dude for however many hours or days we will be out. Lists are very helpful here, but to be perfectly honest, I don't exactly have a list for every occasion. This morning, for example, I needed to take my car into the shop. Fair enough. I'm pretty good at this one:
Diaper bag (the manpurse comes, too, but Yoni has more supplies) Cloth Bibs (I have a little drool-bot, made out of DNA) Diapers Wipes Changing mat Extra outfit (You never know when there'll be a poop explosion) Plastic bag (see above) 2 servings of dry cereal and food (you never know how long you'll be waiting for a mechanic) Plastic bib Bottle of breast milk (That stuff deserves its own chapter!) Toys
I wanted to get to the mechanic on time, so I woke the baby, loaded him in the car in his cute winter hat, and headed to the auto shop. Everything seemed like it was in order. I mean as much in order as you can be when it's 25 degrees out and you have no car. It took a good two hours before I realized what I forgot to bring. Yoni alternates meals: food, milk, food, etc. Just as I was getting ready to give the little guy a bottle, I realized that I forgot something really important: a nipple.
Now you all must be thinking the same thing as I am: Ilan, you love nipples! How can you forget them? But this is what fatherhood will do to a person.
So there I am in the baby needs section of the supermarket, looking at bottles and nipples, trying to find the cheapest, when I realize that it won't do me any good to buy nipples or bottles, because they need to be boiled before the first use, and I don't think there's anyone in the supermarket giving out sterile nipple samples today.
Now Yoni is getting restless. He's been rolling around a big supermarket all morning in his stroller, and he is getting pretty hungry. To make matters a little more stressful, the car won't be ready today, so Kate, my wife has to come down and pick us up. Luckily, she has two nipples, so Yoni got fed, and we got a ride home. Now I know: don't forget the nipples!
Okay, so it's been a while since I posted to this blog, but I swear I'm finding a purpose to this. Mainly, to not be playing Scrabble or endlessly perusing Facebook in the hours that my dear little boy is asleep. I have been living in Ithaca, NY for the last 5 months, and my main job has been to take care of this beautiful boy of mine: While there are moments in every day where I feel frustrated, tired and confused, I have to admit, I'm getting pretty frickin' good at this dad thing! In fact, I should write a book! Or a blog. Let's just stick to a blog for a little while.
Probably, the only thing I don't really feel I've improved at is constructive use of nap times. I know that some parents aren't as lucky as I am (my little man takes two long naps a day) but still, I find myself sitting at the computer, googling people I haven't spoken to in over a decade rather than do something constructive with my time. Well, I declare today that nap times will no longer serve the purpose of google time. Instead, I will devote nap times to cooking, cleaning, music, blogging, bill paying, exercise. Crap! I have a lot to get done! God bless my son for sleeping so soundly!
I am not the type of guy who likes to hold onto a book after I've read it. I mean what can I do with it once I've read it? The way I see it, if you own a book, there are only a few things you can actually do with it:
1. Read it. That's good. Until you've already read it, then you're like, "Where do I put this?" Which leads me to number 2:
2. (A little redundant, but I just started a list) Put it somewhere. Many people like to display books on a shelf. Others just like to store them on shelves, the primary difference being motivational. Some of us like to show off books to come off a certain way, (watch a lawyer being consulted on a TV show) while others might put their books in a den, where few visitors come. If it's a good book, that's okay, but someone is eventually going to walk in there. What if you're a little embarrassed by the fact that you enjoyed a particular book?
What if the book just sucked? Where do you put it? Even if it was good, you're not going to spend your waking hours reading it over and over again. You could make a pillow or a jewelry box or a bookcase out of books, or even a small home (though I question how it might stand up to the elements):
I remember when I was a kid, our couch broke, and for the better part of a decade, my parents kept it propped up on law books.
3. You lend your book to someone to temporarily get it off your hands. I guess this is like putting it somewhere, but in a way, it's more clever, because you are telling someone else, "Hey, put this somewhere." I have lent a lot of books to friends, and the more I think about it, the less I want them back. It's not like I am going to read a novel again. There are too many good ones, and I feel a lot better pawning off the job of finding someplace to put another book.
Personally, I am not comfortable with owning books, though I'll admit that there are some books I wouldn't give up so easily. Those are my reference manuals: cookbooks, fix-it books, music books. To be perfectly honest, though, I don't know why I hang onto them. I rarely cook, I can't fix it, and I read music very poorly. Still, these books contribute to my sense of what I'd like to do some day in a parallel universe where I can become a rockstar, carpenter, and master chef.
Last week, my lovely wife Kate and I finished our childbirth preparation class, the highlight of which was most certainly when I realized that a C-section is not as bad as I thought. I mean, I am not saying I would want to have to get one, but I had previously thought they cut in a much more sensitive area. It's good to feel like a bit of a dumbass every now and then!
Anyway, we have been setting up furniture, packing up books, and giving away things we don't use in preparation for the newest member of our family, who is expected in less than a month! Last Saturday, we were sorting through clothes which we have received for the baby, and I just broke out in tears. It was the actual holding of these clothes and knowing that my kid is going to wear these things! MY KID! Soon after, I realized that if we have enough of these things, I could have a back-up band! That's when the tears really started to flow.
Kate and I have been working on outfits for the band:
Most days, I think that I am ready for this baby to arrive, but I don't know the half of it! I am not the one who has to pee a thimble-full every nine minutes, or who hasn't seen her feet while standing on them since summer. And I'm still doing a pretty good job of sleeping through the night. I also haven't started lactating, but I am have been cruising the web for advice on that front. This fellow seems to think that if you dress the part, milk will come:
Anything's worth a shot, I guess. In the birthing class, they said that when the placenta falls out, that triggers lactation. That might be a problem for me...
In the winter of 2001, I was living in New Jersey. One day in early March, I got a flat tire. Luckily, I was close to home, so I was able to jack the car up in my parents' driveway. As I was loosening the bolts on the wheel, one was presenting a bit of a problem. I yanked very hard on the wrench and heard a hauntingly loud and eerie sound. I thought it was the bolt coming loose. In fact, it was my back. I was not able to stand up straight for nearly a month, and it was hard to find the motivation to clean up after my beautiful beagle, Benson in the cold winter weather. Each time, I struggled to reach for the ground was a challenge, until I had a vision: I imagined Benson's poop was made of pure gold! A song was born.
Nearly seven years later, my buddy Jason called me up one day and said, "Let's make a video!" Benson was long dead, so we borrowed a dog and a video camera, and Jason made a seminal work of art:
I've decided that as I create this blog, I am not only going to write new things, but I'll share some of what I have created over the years... my first little tidbit, then, is this little ditty I wrote back in '04, a tribute to endurance:
Ballad of the Bees
All bees must contrive To share with family their hive. It's a tight-knit honeycomb cave.
And though there isn't much space, Each bee has his place, The position which fate each bee gave.
Here is the case, In one honeybee place, Of a drone with the simple name Dave
And his sidekick and mate, A boy bee named Nate. Out of thousands, they were merely two slaves
To a queen bee named Kate Who had chosen a date For inception before ending her life.
Round the hive went a note, And it said, and I quote, “Come and race to make Queen Kate your wife.”
Now Dave was excited, For he'd been invited To an occasion so utterly rare.
With a grin on his face, He said, “If I win that race, I'll ride her like she was my mare!”
“That's all good and fine, But on Queen Kate I'll dine When the race is done,” said Nate,
“For though you're quick at the start, To win the queen's heart, One must fly at the steadiest rate.”
With their fate undecided, A cloud of bees glided Into starting position to race,
And they followed Queen Kate Right out the front gate With most fearsome looks on their face.
Then Kate flew straight up. “If you want to shtup,” She said with a gleam in her eye,
“Then it's straight to the top Of the world and don't stop Till you get me between my six thighs.”
Dave was determined To bring Kate to term in The timliest manner he could,
So he flew high and far And went straight for the stars, Thinking, “I'll father those children but good!”
And Nate flew along, Just singing a song, On his face, a calm, simple smile.
With no feeling of strife, Though this race meant his life, He must have flown two or three miles.
Now the air it grew thin, And Dave's breath did begin To grow short and his heart it did pound.
Suffering heart attack, Dave resembled a sack As he fell rapidly to the ground.
With his best friend long gone, Our man Nate did press on, And soon overtake'd the queen.
And he filled her but good With the sap from his wood, The most juice a queen bee has e'er seen.
Friends and family have suggested before that I keep a blog, but I've never gotten up the gusto. I could never quite see past feeling like Doogie Howser, MD. Plus, I always wondered if I could go on ad nauseum about myself or anything else, enough to make it worthwhile for readers to join me. I am beginning to realize, though, that if I view this whole experience of blogging from a wider perspective, I can incorporate all kinds of writing, images and recordings, so that I can share various elements of my life without being too boring.
I'm hoping that I can just maintain the habit of blogging enough to keep myself writing regularly and develop the brain muscles to become a proper writer. I would find it an honor if anyone chose to come along for the ride and share their views regarding anything I may offer on this blog. With that said, here goes...
He sits alone, looking through the bars and the mesh at the world outside. He contemplates the meaning of words like "freedom," "emancipation," and "dadadadadadadada!" He dreams of the day when he may free himself from the bondage of infancy. Standing up would be a good start. Or even crawling forward.
Anything's worth a shot, I guess. In the birthing class, they said that when the placenta falls out, that triggers lactation. That might be a problem for me...
