Diaper Changing is the New Gym

I used to scoff at people who moaned about the difficulty of changing diapers. What's the biggy? Your wee angel just lies there on the changing table, sedate, patiently staring at you with adoring eyes, until the new diaper is secured and clothes are back on. What is so hard about that? It wasn't until Kael was six months old - the age where we first introduced solid foods – that I began to realize what all the stink was about. Along with the most potent smelling of daily poos, our angel turned into a little ball of pent-up energy as he began to explore the art of movement. Apparently, stagnant is boring. He's got a point, but did he have to figure it out so quickly? With every squeal, screech and kick on the changing table, I can't help but wonder if the funky president himself, James Brown, was reincarnated into the Kman.

Whereas changing diapers or clothes used to be cinch, it has turned into a dreaded duel. He wriggles like a fish, twists into pike position with the grace of an Olympic diver, struggles with the ferocity of a caged tiger, and protests as loudly as a howler monkey; in short, he is slowly driving Maman and Papa insane. Recalling Jon's words of wisdom, a proud papa himself, “distraction is key”, I conjure up a toy he can stick into his mouth or attack him with an unexpected zerbert, providing a momentary break for my sobbing, pleading eardrums. And yet, the distractions never lasts long enough to finish the job. Before I know it, he is on his tummy threatening to launch himself over the edge of the changing table like Blondin in a barrel.

I've meditated on ways to sedate him, from tranquilizer shots (what!? they do it to elephants), straightjacket (thereby also eliminating the need to change clothes), to good old fashioned shackles. And don't be fooled by their miniature statures, babies can be very strong. In fact, after a few months more of training, I do believe myself ready to enter the next Stampede. Those calves have nothing that our “determined” boy can't dish out.

Now just over 10 months, the evolution of the K-man is progressing at a fast and furious rate. He learned first to pull himself up into a sitting position. Not a week later, he had hoisted himself up to a standing position using the window sill. The first time he succeeded, he turned around with a wide grin, wildly happy with himself because he was able to look out the window. His current favourite trick is to get himself into standing position, and then slowly dangle one arm out, as if publicly demonstrating his amazing prowess to the world. Check me out! A couple of times, he has thrown caution to the wind (I wonder where he gets that from...) and just lets go completely, wavering in the air for a few nano seconds of hang time, before losing balance and plopping back down to earth landing on his bottom with a thud that would be sure have papa sitting on a rubber donut for several weeks. Of course, you can't learn without falling flat on your face so we will undoubtedly witness many more bonks, close calls, and fortunate landings in the months to come to go along with the scratches that already adorn his chubby cheeks.


Baby proofing our cubicle of a home has been challenging to say the least. Nothing that is beyond grasp will escape from his persistent little hands. More amazingly, I'm beginning to suspect our boy has telepathic powers because he seems to have the uncanny ability to beeline towards whatever object I'm thinking to myself I hope he doesn't go for. “Not the mate, not the mate...shit!” Anything and everything that you don't want him to grab turns into his main target. Supervising Kael is not like being a lifeguard because you actually have to be aware and present of the baby's actions at ALL times. We are forced to constantly shift, rearrange, toss, move and hide things or they end up in his mouth or spilled onto the floor. And even though we went out and bought him some fancy Fisher Price toys that take up more space than our furniture, his favourite toy continues to be Flea's red and black sequenced dog leash. He loves to just sit there and twirl it around like a ribbonist (can you tell the Olympics are still fresh from my similes) before inserting the metal clip on the end in his mouth, After all, who doesn't love a good bite on something metallicky to quench that...what the hell does that quench for him anyways?

And speaking of chewing, he now has six teeth with which to munch his meals with. And he now insists in his determined way to eat by himself, refusing to depend on us parental units for delivery anymore. So we do what all parents must eventually do – give in. And so we plop a mound of mixed up food onto his tray, and watch as he reaches for a handful and then shoves it in the general direction of his mouth. Initially, maybe 10% of the grabbed nourriture made it to his mouth. The leftover after a feeding session would have been enough to feed an ant colony for an entire year. Lately though, I have to admit, he's getting pretty good as his manual dexterity improves. He still winds up with food in his ears, hair and worst of all, up the nose (broccoli up the nose really tickles, you know) but Flea isn't exactly getting a full second meal courtesy of Kael anymore.

Finally, the dreaded period of disciplinary action has begun. I despise discipline. Never wanted to enforce it - even as a teacher. But just as it is crucial to instill in the classroom for there to be any productivity, you must also ingrain it into your children so you don't wind up with spoiled brats. The Kman has definitely reached the age of mischief with intent and therefore instilling discipline early could save us much chagrin in the future.




Flea and Kael's relationship is a one-way affair, but in the opposite direction from what it used to be. In the beginning, Kael would ignore Flea as if she never existed, going on about his business without even acknowledging her presence. My how times have changed. Poor Flea can no longer get a moment's rest without Kael's face lighting up at the prospect of grabbing onto her fur and then beelining as fast and as determined as he can. The maniacal grin that paints his face reminds of Jack Nicholson in the Shining. Flea simply growls, gets up and moves. The scene then repeats itself dozens and dozens of times in the span of a few minutes. The real issue is that there really aren't many options for poor Flea. And now that winter approaches, the outside getaway will no longer be viable either. This has been going on for weeks now with no sign of either one of them ready to change their ways. Again, I don't think Flea will actually ever hurt him, but she does growl pretty deeply whenever he approaches and has come close a couple of times when Kael grabs a hunk of her fur not-so-tenderly- receiving severe reprimand from both mama and papa bear afterwards.

All in all, I'm so in love with my family. Kael's eyes are no less mesmerizing, Flea's no less wonderfully ferral and Michele is no less beautiful and funny in her role as mother. Things may not be perfect in terms of job, house, finances and whatnot, but we've got love and that overrides all else. Now let's hope that we can get rid of this cold virus we've passing back and forth to each other for the past few weeks so we can have our health back to!

I'll leave you with a quote from Alan Watts, which of course made me think of my little guy when he's in the stroller just staring around in amazement at the world going on around him. I just hope I can play a part so that some of that wonder and curiosity never leave him completely.

“Wonder, and its expression in poetry and the arts, are among the most important things which seem to distinguish men from other animals, and intelligent and sensitive people from morons.”

oj

Mr Mom

Regret, mixed with a hint of humour of the “how could I have been so stupid” nature, is written all over Michele's face as she lays down on the floor, staring upwards at the ceiling. It's the quiet moment after the an action-packed sequence of events.

Kael was in crib, gregarious for well over half an hour: “What is it with these people, George? Can't they tell I don't want to sleep? I'm clearly letting the out the 'I'm not tired screech”. Grrr, my parents are so dumb!” Finally, the dialogue dimmed until it was silent. I had gone into his room stealthily to check out the situation and saw him twitching ever so slightly, eyes three-quarters closed. It is absolutely vital for him not to see you during this delicate phase of the nap process. If he does, it's game over. He's up and he's screeching with more vigour than you can possibly imagine coming from such a tiny little being. I tippy-toed back out of his room unnoticed, intending to close his door in a couple of minutes when there was no chance of a wake-up.

Unbeknowst by me, Michele reappears from our room and also decides to investigate the nap situation. She pokes her head in but cannot get a proper visual. She inches forward but still can't see as he is hidden from view at the front of the crib. She ventures further, risking much at this final stage before sleep. Suddenly, Kael perceives movement or hears something and with the quickness of gopher popping its head out of the hole, his head shoots up over the edge of the crib to see what's up. Michele panics, ducks and then lunges out of the room onto the floor as if she were an extra on A-team episode after Face had just launched a grenade nearby. Kael screams, as if to say, 'I saw you! I saw you!” “Merde”, is all Michele can say in a half-giggle/half-frustrated tone.

Later that afternoon, it's my turn to get caught. Kael has been in there about twenty minutes and there is the baby monitor expresses only the hum of the humidifier (used primarily to drown out other sounds). I sneak up to the doorway and bam! I'm dead in the water just like that. I didn't even get the chance to pretend I was a ninja tis time. It's like getting ambushed 1 minute into a paintball game. Splat! Hmm, that was fun. Kael happened to be positioned at the back of the crib, facing the doorway. In consolation, I never had a chance.

Mr Mom - Day 5

Groan. Quick glance at the clock. 6:02 .He has just been fed and should be going back to sleep like he does most every other morning. But he isn't. We gambled last night by staying up a little later so we could finally spend a little alone time together, and now we are being burned for it. No one ever said life was fair... Neither one of us is in the mood to officially get up and out of bed just yet so we decide to bend the rules a bit this morning by bringing him into our bed.

Not surprisingly, once sandwiched between us, he doesn't doze off instantly (he only sleeps in his crib now). He is too curious about his new surroundings – especially Daddy's hair, lips and cheeks. Gouging daddy's eyes is a particularly amusing activity, too. There is much staring at one another, like two people staring at the board wondering what their opponent's next move will be. His eyes are beautiful; they are oceans; mesmerizing; whirlpools I drown in over and over again. Yet, they hold no secrets as to what is going through that tiny, ever-growing seed of a brain. Poor Flea is jealous. Back in Taiwan, it used to be her that would be beckoned up on the bed to cuddle with us. Michele motions for her to come to the side of the bed, which Flea, the opportunist, interprets as an invitation to join the party on the bed. Ca y'est! The whole family is in bed. Fun, yes, but it won't satisfy that desire to sleep...

His schedule throughout the enire morning remains out of sync. He is uncharacteristically fussy and out of sorts. His teeth must really be bothering him. Great, only one more year of teething. It takes him 40 minutes of grappling with his bedmate, Curious George, interspersed with a few attempts at escaping, before he finally collapses from sheer exhaustion.

Our baby boy's day winds down after dinner with a daily bath. I think the purpose of the bath is to calm Kael down before sleep. That is not happening anymore. While he used to be content to lounge back, full stretch, sucking on a bath toy (all that was missing was some candles and a glass of wine) while papa held his head and momma wiped in all his nooks and crannies, he now uses bathtime as his aquafit session. Gone is the relaxed personna, having now been replaced by a much more animated K man who would rather march in the tub rather than lie down. Washing his hair, as you can imagine, becomes a challenging task to say the least. And the fact that he is getting stronger doesn't help matters either. There are times when I forcefully try to coax him to sit, but he just won't budge. I foresee trouble in the future...

After the bath, Kael is dried off and has his pj's put on, afterwhich he has a little feed. It is just about 8 pm. We perform the last leg of our nightly ritual - one which I have grown to adore - by forming a circle and singing him a gentle lullaby. Then we set him down in his crib, give him his blanky, tell him we love him and leave him to fall asleep on his own. After some talking and flailing - the duration varying by day – he finally lies peacefully in his world of vivid dreams. It's a sight beautiful enough to make this grown man cry.

Mr Mom - Day 4

We had our friend Steph come over to baby sit this morning so we could run an important errand for the wedding that we had to do together. Steph came precisely at the time she said she would. The problem with babies – in our adult minds anyways - is that they are inconsistent. To go one further, they are down right unpredictable. It makes it rather challenging in this world of schedules and time tables.

He had woken up in good enough spirits and happily eaten breakfast as usual. Afterwards however, he wasn't so interested in going back to sleep. He didn't look tired so I suggested maybe skipping a nap for once. Michele shook her head. “No way. If he starts making the rules, it's game over for us”. She's right, of course.

Miraculously, he fell asleep just prior to Steph's arrival. Predictably, it didn't last. Just as we were slipping our feet into our flip flops to head out, we heard the dreaded Kael wail come through loud and clear on the baby monitor. Sometimes those devices are just a little too good (ie cover your ears). Michele attempted to wield her most potent of mama magic to try to coax him back to sleep but it was no use. We decided to keep him up for another half hour and tried to put him back down again (as the author of Wiped noted, “put him down” is an awful term – springing to mind an old dog whose on its last legs - but I'm not sure how else to say it either). We warned Steph before we left that there was a definite possibility of a Kaelstorm brewing on the horizon. Sure enough, when we returned an hour later, our little guy was up and wired. Understandably, she could not handle leaving our baby boy screaming bloody murder in his crib. Steph felt bad. The truth is, she never stood a chance.

When his afternoon nap came around, he was out like a light. No wrestling with Curious George and no conversations with Sophie the giraffe. Bam! Out cold in seconds flat. Michele had just left for another appointment at 1 pm. When 2:30 came around, I started to get antsy. It's been an awfully long time, I thought to myself. I didn't really know what to do with myself at this point. I'd finished the important business and was hesitant to begin any new project because he'd be bound to wake up as soon as I begun. Should I just peek in to make sure he's ok? Just one quick glance? Thankfully I resisted all temptation and he finally rejoined the waking world at 3 o'clock much to my relief.

It seems like I just can't win. If he doesn't sleep long enough, I get frustrated by a lack of time to myself. On the other hand, if he sleeps too long, I miss him and want him to get up so bad that I get tempted to wake him up prematurely – something the books say never to do.

One final observation today ( I lied. I just thought of another one) has to do with his head whipping habit. When I'm holding him in my arms, he tends to look away. Everything and anything aside from me is most interesting to him. Or maybe he is hinting that I've got the dragon (listen to Biz Markie's classic song if you need schooling on what its meaning). Without warning, he'll often whip his gargantuan head around with the speed of a shot putter in full momentum just before release. Most of the time, if I'm paying attention, my reflexes are quick enough to move back just in time to hear the whoosh of his noggin fly right by the tip of my nose. But if I'm distracted, I have no chance and our heads collide. He doesn't even bat an eye. Meanwhile, I'm trying to hold back the tears. It friggin' hurts. I'll say it again: babies are tough, man.

Finally, something that'll make you go “awww”. It's something that happens outside. While playing in his playpen this afternoon, a sudden summer breeze swung through our patio that made Kael feel so fine that he stopped in mid-gum to absorb this scintillating natural phenomenon. At first, he couldn't understand what was making his thin hairs on his head dance in the air. But then he did was the majority of us adults don't do. He quit thinking about it and simply enjoyed it for what it was, letting the wind ruffle his hair in its heavenly way. Afterwards, he did not dwell on how amazing it felt either. He just continued playing like nothing even happened. He let it go. I thought that was amazing.

Mr. Mom - Day 3

Kael is so close to crawling it's scary. After rolling onto his stomach, he gets himself into the scorpion yoga position, craning his neck up as far as he can, and then tries to grunt himself forward. He gets nowhere fast. I'm quite sure he's not into yoga yet, despite the fact that everyone is in to yoga around here, as the severe grunting tells me he is not concentrating on his breathing whatsoever.

The fact that is on the verge of crawling is exciting, yes, but equally petrifying for we are not remotely close to having our little capsule that we call our apartment (think of one of those Japanese rent-a-room capsules filled to the brim with crap) ready for the epic day when he tears around the living room. All that is stopping him at this stage is sheer mass – he's carrying a little heavy at the moment. But make no mistake, it's coming.

They say you should get down on all fours to get the child's perspective when baby-proofing your place. I asked for Flea's input, as she's just about the same height, but she said there was nothing worth chewing on. After crawling around and repeatedly banging my head on the corner of the table, I was able to get a good handle on the possible hazards for out little ball of kinetic energy ready to burst. Tomorrow's mission then, is to start babyfying the pad.

Speaking of hazards, I was reading a book called Wiped! that Michele passed on to me during one of his morning naps (gee, tiring business being carried everywhere, having your food prepared for you, have someone dressing you and then playing). It's about a writer who shares her experience as the Mom of a newborn. It's very O.T.T. (over the top) and hyper dramatic for effect, but all in all I can sympathize with some of it and empathize with Michele for the rest of the more womanly aspects of it all,

At one point, she relates how she accidentally bumped her child's head against a projector on an airplane – hard. Afterwards, she stakes the claim that everyone unintentionally hurts their baby at least once. Well, I'll tell you that I would never... oh wait a second, I already got mine out of the way.

It happened a few weeks back when we were in the bath. I was struggling to hold him as he was standing up in his mini tub because he's not into the whole maxin' an' relaxin' in the bath while his servants scrub him down like he used to be. And if he had just stood there quietly, with relatively little motion, it wouldn't have happened. But the K man likes to wriggle as if someone was secretly sending mini shocks of electricity through his body at all times. Take a wild guess at what goes down next. Kael is leaning forward with all his strength, reaching for a toy, and my hand loses grip on his slick, slimy from soap frame. He tumbles forward, head colliding not so gently with the metal nozzle where the water comes out.

To her credit, Michele did not freak out even though she was sitting right there. Instead, she calmly snatched him, consoling him with soft words. Kael is crying but thankfully there are no piercing screams. I feel awful. Once safe in momma's arms, we hold him up for inspection. Oh yeah, we definitely have indentation. And is it just me, or does our nozzle have a funny shape? So it appears to be true. It's all about our reaction. If we remain calm, then so does he. Although babies may be fragile, they are also tough, man. Meanwhile, I remained mortified by the “slip up” for several minutes, apologizing profusely. “Sorry buddy. Is it really bad?”, I kept asking, “He'll be ok, won't he?” Of course he was and still is. Just glad I got mine over with early..

Mr Mom - Day 2

The morning passed uneventfully – that's a good thing these days. No Kaelstorms, only sunny skies blessed our apartment as it is did our city.

Our little guy is teething though. Aside from his chubby cheeks which are the colour of poppies, there was also another not so subtle sign when we put him down for a nap. Basically, he would square his jaw in such a way that it made him look like a grumpy old senior with constant arthritis. I couldn't figure out what was going on. “What's he doing?”, I wondered aloud. “His teeth, the ones we can't see yet on top, that are bothering him.” Sure enough, upon closer inspection, he was gnawing rhythmically on his upper gums with his two recent and sharp-edged bottom teeth. I guess it's like having a sore tooth, you keep wanting to touch it, just to make sure it still hurts (Ow!, yep). Babies don't think that way yet, do they? To help him out, Michele initiates what she calls the teething dance, alternating between a wet cloth, his teething ring (not to be confused with his preciouses that he gums when he eats) and a carrot every five minutes or so to soothe them until he tires out enough to doze off.

I was left in charge pretty much the whole afternoon as Michele took advantage of me being home to go to the mall to buy some things in preparation for the wedding. I did not want to go to the mall. In fact, I hate the mall. I don't hate many things, but the mall is one of them. If you ever want to see me grumpy, take me to the mall, on a Saturday, when it's a beautiful sunny day outside.

Lord K and I had lunch date on the patio, rolled around together on the floor, sang French songs, ate books, drooled lots, stared off into space together (he certainly picked up that personality trait from daddy) and did all that other every day normal stuff.

The big outing for the day consisted of a jaunt out to the local park to do something real summery: a trip to the water park. I was real good, remembering to apply baby sunscreen, bring his water bottle, put on his sun hat and even Flea-proof the house (she rummages through the garbage just to spite us when go out without her) before going. When we parked in the shade at the park, I stripped off his pants and beelined towards the screeching kids and spraying water. I anticipated a refreshing splash, but we both received a shock instead. The water felt like it was sourced directly from one of the melting ice caps. And if I found it freezing, I can only imagine that Kael's sensitive skin had his nervous system ringing the alarm bells. So instead of getting right in there, something I tend to be overly fond of doing, we hung out on the periphery, standing in a 2 mm deep puddle, happily watching the other kids play.

I was surprised that Michele still wasn't home when we returned. I felt mildly panic-stricken as I knew he needed another nap, but was also keenly aware that a nap is pretty much out of the question without momma's milk. Since he was already seemingly content in the stroller, I made a quick decision to grab Flea and keep moving. There was a time when he would fall asleep in the stroller, but those days are long gone. There's a whole world of sensory pleasures to explore now.

And then it happened, the one thing I dreaded most. He began to cry. What I thought was just his gangsta lean was more like the result of having squirmed himself into an uncomfortable sideways position that even a contortionist would have found awkward.

Can I tell you that nothing – no thing – stresses me out more than my baby crying? Can you tell I'm a new parent? I try to console him by putting on my happy voice and telling, “Hey little buddy, there's nothing to worry about. It's a beautiful day and all is right in the Universe”. He doesn't buy it. Apparently my Universe and his are in different galaxies. So I quicken the pace to an almost jog to try to get home as fast as possible while cooing “almost there, almost there”. Poor Flea doesn't even have a chance to poop. We make it home without incident, He is fussy but at least there is no storm to blemish this lovely afternoon. Mommy is home and it isn't long before he is suckling. All is well.

You know, it's funny. A several hundred thousand dollar transaction goes awry at work and it doesn't stress in my least, but when my baby boy lets out one single wail and my whole body, from head to toe, starts to panic.

Mr. Mom - Day 1

It's Monday and I'm at home. Weird. Kael is taking his afternoon nap so I am taking advantage of these precious few moments to write a few words about my first day on parental leave. Before making the decision, we debated about whether or not we could afford it as you only receive 55% of your salary – already meager earnings in the expense trap of Vancouver. But then I thought of it this way: how can I afford not to? Kael will only be a baby once so if I can find a way to spend some extra time with him now, while he is soaking it all in, then I've got to do it. Might as well use the sytem. And hey, if there is ever a time to be off work in Canada, it's in the summer.

When I told people at work that I was going to take time off to be with my son, reactions were mixed. Many of the women thought it was a wonderful idea; most of the guys saw it as an extended vacation.
Tell you what fellas, a vacation it is not. It's work. I never fooled myself for a second by thinking it would be cakewalk. Taking care of an 8 month old mini-me is in fact tireless work that never ceases. You can't take breaks when you want or take an extended lunch. Nope, one thing Michele has made abundantly clear is that it's all about the baby's schedule. He's my new boss.

Following a stormy 6 am wake up where only the boob would do, Kael's morning chatter began at 8 am, which was my cue to wake up. I think it translates to something along the lines of, “Hey, I'm up now. Should we get some breakfast? This plastic giraffe just isn't doing it for me anymore. Hey, I'm up now...”, whereas the 6 am screaming was more like, “I'M STARVING MY ASS OFF OVER HERE. I WANT SOME MILK NOW!” I have to say that I much prefer the 8 am Kman's morning show than my alarm going off at 4 am like it did when I was on the early shift. I sang the good morning song while I changed his diaper - weighing the equivalent of a bowling ball following a night of urination - and then brought him into the kitchen for breakfast.

I put on some baby French music, and then got his breakfast ready while he munched on his plastic rings in his highchair, which we have come to dub the “throne”. That then, makes Kael the Lord of the Rings. This is a duty I am comfortable with, by the way, as I have previously prepared his meals on weekends. So far, paternity leave feels like an extension of the weekend. I added water to his brown rice cereal and poured some prunes from a jar into a bowl et voilà, le petit déjeuner est prêt.

Eating is messy business. Perhaps I should have changed his white shirt beforehand... He is good eater, my little bruiser, ingesting all that we offer him in between breaks from chewing on his beloved rings. I noticed that he enjoys the blunt part of the spoon more than the end where we put the food. When the feeding session is over, he starts to get tired. I can tell because he rubs his eyes , without taking into account that his fingers are sticky and slushy from a mixture of pureed prunes and cereal mash, and he is still holding the rings with their serrated edges. That can't feel too good.

When breakfast is done, it's time to wake Mamma up so he can get a little milk before going straight back to bed. It seems odd behaviour for anyone who is not a teenager to sleep all night, wake up, eat and then go right back to sleep. When I questioned the logic, I was told that this is how it's done and that I should read the book baout sleep patterns (ie Sleeping Baby = Happy Mother ) before making any more comments.

So be it. I take advantage of my free time to take the dog out for a walk and enjoy the summer morning, repeating to myself the entire time, "Jeez, this sure does beat sitting at my computer, staring out the window wishing I was outdoors.”

As I enter through the gate leading to the front door after the stroll, I hear the familiar sound of baby crying. These days, it is the sound emanating from my apartment and not some other poor sucker's place like it used to. We are right in the middle of a Kaelstorm. Our wee man is teething and he is not so enthusiastic about it. It takes him an hour before he stops hiccuping from wailing so intensely in protest and calms down enough to fall asleep.

An hour and half later, Lord Kael awakens happy as a clam, as if the torture before slumber had never occurred. It's playtime. We let him roll around on the floor until his troglodyte grunts get very deep, which is his way of telling us to change up the program. I prop him up on his feet. He sways and staggers, reminding me of myself back in my univeristy days.

"Hey, what are you doing?", Michele suddenly yells from the bathroom, "It's lunchtime! We have baby group at 1 PM." Work, work, work. We all know who the real boss is. I tell Kael he is getting the prix fixe menu consisting of: mashed turkey, with mashed potatoes, mashed green beans and for dessert, you guessed it, mashed blueberries. Oops. Forgot to change that white top again before feeding him blueberries.

I get 15 minutes to myself after lunch to shave, shower and eat my own lunch. I guess that's my break.

At baby group, there a host of Moms sitting on mats watching over their fellow mini humans as they crawl clumsily around. Oh look, little Mary just accidentally gave little Ahmed a swift kick to the temple as she zoomed past. This is the cruiser group, that is, 6-12 months. I am the only man there, yet I am comfortable enough with my metrosexuality not to feel awkward. There are babies of all shapes and sizes enjoying each other's company, playing with toys, as new mother's chat away about the various calamities of caring for their respective cruiser. While the mother's converse, so do the babies, only their conversations consists of loud groans, squeals and squawks, something the mother's have all learned to ignore. I find it all very dizzying.

The guest speaker at baby group is a nutritionist here to enlighten us on finger foods. Similar to life, the key to learning how to eat for babies is by play and experimentation. We also learned that all food does not necessarily have to be mashed up into sludge and that giving Kael a third of a banana is fine, too. He acts as the test baby that all the other mothers observe. The nutritionist offers him the banana. which he accepts rather unenthusiastically. He admires its gushiness as he squishes it with his fingers. Then he hastily decides to shove into his mouth rather barbarically. “See”, the nutrtionist proudly exclaims, “he loves it!” Perhaps instead of his beloved rings, we will now start to give him finger foods to gnaw on instead.

By the end of baby group, Kael is overtired and needing of a nap. The rest of the day goes by smoothly, as dinner and bath time are old hat for me. Where did the time go? It's been constant, rewarding work so far. But I'm not doing it completely alone as my wife-to-be has done this entire time. And, the fact that I do not breastfeed makes my new job ten times easier. Kudos to all women who do it. Day 1 has been great. Let's see if I still feel the same way after Day 30.