On Favorite Characters and Unexpected Treasures

About two months ago, one of my favorite children's authors, Bernard Waber, passed away. He was best known for Lyle, Lyle Crocodile, and I wrote a tribute of sorts at another blog I write for because I thought Waber was an immensely cool guy.

Not terribly long after I wrote that, I was contacted by Bernard's daughter, Louisa. We've exchanged some messages back and forth since then, both reminiscing over how great a human being her father was and about Dash in particular. Louisa did something extremely special for us, and sent us an illustration from Bernard's collection. It's an early drawing from Lyle and the Birthday Party, and it's really one of the coolest things I've seen. We immediately framed it and we're going to hang it up in our nursery, but, like Bernard Waber's books, this is the kind of stuff you share, not keep to yourself.

If you're unfamiliar with Lyle, do yourself a favor and check it out. At worst, you'll be paying tribute to a truly good human being, and, at best, you'll get to read an excellent picture book. I really can't wait until Dash is old enough where I can share my experience with Bernard Waber with him and he can understand how special a gift he's got hanging on his wall.

The Glitch in Sleep

The last two weeks have been interesting for us, partially because we're not always the brightest parents, and partially because we are.

One interesting, but not so detailed, point I didn't make last month was about how sleep was hard for Dash. We couldn't quite figure out why - we rarely got full nights out of him as is, and he didn't nap a ton. When we got him down, it was with the yoga ball all bundled up as opposed to an easy peasy put him down type thing.

This is when Ann realized that we were doing it all wrong.

Apparently, babies have very specific sleep cycles. They sleep 45 minutes at a time, usually for two cycles, and then they're up for an hour, except for the 5-7 hours at night. Given that Dash is exclusively breastfed, it means he's up at night more often, but that's not too troubling for Ann. Do you think we figured that out? Of course not! We'll just keep Dash up until he's tired, right? And then toss him in a swing in the same room as us and then be puzzled that his nap is only a half hour long. And then he'll just stay up again, right?! He'll sleep when he's tired!

Ooh, boy, we messed this one up.

I can't remember at this point when or how Ann figured out that we were doing this all wrong, but we immediately moved the swing into his room, set up the monitor, made the room as dark as possible, and started working around that schedule. Dash was like a whole different baby within a day - babbling and cooing and super-active, and hardly fussy at all except when we perhaps kept him up a little too long. At night, he'd sleep-eat on Ann a couple times and it wouldn't be a problem - he effectively sleeps from 8 to 5 at night, which is a huge improvement from keeping him up until 10 or 11 and crossing our fingers that we'd get 6 hours out of him. Ann got to the point where she was mapping his sleep/wake time to the minute, which is both insane and awesome.

Not our best moment.

So, of course, the last three days have been a bit rocky after about 10 days of a really great, solid routine. Ann left me alone with Dash twice, and both times were just strange sleep things that I attributed more to me not being Ann than anything else, but he was a complete and total pain for Ann today, too. She then emails me this, regarding a sleep regression many babies go through once they hit four months, attributing to a shift in sleep cycles (check), more engagement in the world around them (check), and growth spurts (check). I don't know how people parent without an internet to help them out, because this is absolutely ridiculous. I'm positive I'd never have figured this out on my own, and we're actually really on top of things.

So we're already into a new era of sleepytimes for Dashypants, but I'm more confident now than I have been in days that we'll figure it out. The sooner that kid learns how to talk, the better. God knows we're certainly slow on the uptake...

A Dash of Dash a Day: June 30

Last night, at, like, 11, I had a bit of an episode with Ann where I just kind of ranted for a few minutes. Ann and I thrive on our routines, and it was just one of those weeks between the election and dodgeball and Dash not sleeping so well that Ann and I were off, and I felt like everything was disjointed with me and Dash, and it was just a bit of a mess. We worked through it fine, and recalibrated, and all is well in the world, but then I see the picture above where Dash is literally attached at my hip and as happy as he can be, and I wonder why I ever worried to begin with.

This was his face during the highlight of our morning, when Ann went to get a coffee and we just chilled off to the side, while he screamed with delight as I just talked a bunch of nonsense to him and he loved every moment of it. It's moments like the top picture and this one that make me wonder why I worry at all with Dash, because, really, sometimes the best you can is good enough.

I know a lot of good fathers in my life, and I know of a lot of bad ones. I have one friend who's fighting with his ex for as much custody as he can for his kid, and I have another (now former) friend who acts like it's a chore to see his kid once a month and won't even fight for custody. I saw some old friends yesterday with their almost-three-year-old, and the love they both have for their little girl is so obvious, and then there are those people you know that you're shocked the kids are actually surviving from day to day. Ann and I often joke that it's actually not that hard to be a good parent, especially when so many people set the bar so tragically low, but I'm just really, really intent on doing right by Dash as much as I can, as often as I can.

It's funny, because I've always wanted kids, but I was really anxious to actually become a parent. Then I spent seven hours away from the little bugger twice this week and I missed him before even half the day was gone. As low as my parenting self-esteem can get from time to time, I can at least take solace that my less-than-stellar days are still going to end with Dash delighted to see me, at least for now. And I know more difficult days are going to come, when he can communicate with actual words and move around on his own, and beyond. If I'm doing okay at his most helpless, though...

Going into this month-long blog project, I was worried finding thirty things to write about would be difficult. It was and it wasn't, but even the lazier days end up as a piece of a document of his first three months, which I think we'll appreciate more in a decade or so, if not earlier. This is not a sign-off, of course, but maybe a post every week makes more sense than a post every day, too. Thanks for sticking around, in any regard.

A Dash of Dash a Day: June 29

Back when Ann was pregnant, there was really only one thing I truly needed to buy for her, and that was a yoga ball. She wanted it for the delivery room, but also for her back and stuff during the worst points. It was an adventure getting the thing blown up, but we're all set with it now.

What's funny about this yoga ball is how attached Dash is to it. For the first few weeks of his life, we literally could not get him to go to sleep without us sitting on the yoga ball, bouncing endlessly up and down until his eyes shut for good. It was bizarre and annoying, but hey, whatever it takes to get a baby to go to sleep, right?

I thought this era was done, but it turns out we're far from it. In the last two weeks in particular, he's pretty much not going to sleep unless he gets some yoga bouncing in first. The kid's heavy now! Yoga ball bouncing is serious business! And yet we both continue to bounce over and over and over...

A Dash of Dash a Day: June 28

When Dash's Auntie Beth is not trying to give Dash toupees with her own hair, she's doctoring photos of Dash with some program on her iPad.

I don't know what the program is, I don't quite understand much of any of it, but I do know that nearly every photo Ann sends to Dash is returned to us with some sort of fantastic addition.

Dash is going to be surrounded by some of the most creative people I know, and that excites me. Some of it will be weird, some of it touching, but all of it awesome. Even the ones where Dash is ignoring his father in favor of a cloud-riding unicorn.

A Dash of Dash a Day: June 27

True fact: if you had asked me what I knew about babies 4 months ago, my answer would have probably been "they puke a lot."

I know puking is not the same as spitting up, but when it's oozing onto you, it's a difference without distinction. The good news is that Dash is not a baby that spits up a lot. The, uh, "action photo" above (which cracks Ann and I up every time we look at it) is hardly representative of the Full Dash Experience. He's very drooly, and he has the occasional light spit-up, but nothing crazy at all. I'm very okay with that.

Dash has, in fact, only vomited once so far. He takes after his father, who is going 10 years strong without a vomit incident, but when Dash erupted, it was like a milk volcano all over the place, including my beard. Yes, my beard - I'm shocked I didn't torch the thing off once I was done. While we felt bad for Dash (and he was very nonchalant about the whole episode), Ann was just impressed that I didn't drop the baby as he was puking.

I apparently have a very low bar to clear.

A Dash of Dash a Day: June 26

I was honestly hoping I could write this with a Stanley Cup game seven pending, but alas, it was not meant to be. What is apparently meant to be, though, is good things happening to our local sports teams when Ann and I reach milestones in our life:

* I met Ann in 2004, which was followed by a Red Sox World Series win (first in 84 years) and a Patriots Super Bowl win (third in four years).

* Ann & I got married in 2007, which was followed by a Red Sox World Series win and a Patriots Super Bowl loss after the 16-0 season.

* Ann & I moved into our own apartment again in time for a Bruins Stanley Cup and a Celtics Finals run.

* Dash was born in 2013, and we already have a Stanley Cup Final for the Bruins and the Red Sox are still hanging tough in what was supposedly a "bridge year."

I don't believe in superstition, in hype, in this sort of thing. We've spent a lot of time calling Dash our little good luck charm, though, and I'm secretly hoping the Sox win it all this year so we can tell him about how he kept the pattern going.