Imitation

 

...the sincerest form of flattery.

 

I will definitely take my girls imitating their dear old dad by wearing his clothes over the myriad poor, slacker-ish things I do instead!

 



One Month Old!

Our Acrobatic Grouse is now one month old. I will spare you all the cliches about how fast the time has gone, etc., because I don't feel that way at the moment. This past month (and the weeks before that) were full of stress and home repair stuff and shifting schedules, which I met by eating more...and more. More on that in another post. 

The Grouse is a very chill little baby who is starting to become more alert and able to stay awake longer during the day. On Sunday night/Monday, he even slept through the night except for an hour-long stretch. He had his first diaper blow-out yesterday morning. Here are some photos from last night, taken on our old point-and-shoot: 

I do miss blogging as much as I was able to in the past, but there are now even few moments of free time. Not a bad thing at all. It's just a reality, our new normal. The Grouse has two fiercely devoted sisters who ask to hold him when they awake in the morning and to kiss him before they go to sleep. The extent of his sole brother's involvement so far is to occasionally slip the babe a binky and/or comically shake his hands in front of his face to get the Grouse to stop crying. The latter is accompanied by Our Mighty Moose shrieking, "Baby! Be quiet!"  

The Grouse and the Goat

...Goatee, that is.

 

Pictures don't do it justice. But I've had a goatee now for about eight weeks. I like it. Becky likes it. A few times a week, Becky has asked me, "Has anyone commented on your goatee at work?" No one has. Not sure whether that is a thumbs-up or a thumbs-down at the office.

 

And words don't do this picture justice. Some sweet father-son bonding moments in our house tonight. Our Acrobatic Grouse is a few days shy of turning one month old. Nothing better illustrates how quickly time marches on like having children. Our baby is more alert, doing well at nursing, and growing right in front of us.

 

This afternoon, he broke out his honest-to-goodness first smile at me. I was suspicious myself. But at his 3-week check-up later today, a pediatrician asked Becky if our baby has started smiling yet. Tonight after dinner, he smiled at Becky. It was an awesome feeling!

Yellow Submarine

This morning I went into our kids' bedroom as they were slowly waking to meet the new day. We always sing a song or tell a story (real or made-up right there on the spot) at bedtime; it is rare that we ever do such a thing in the morning. But this morning, for whatever reason, I thought we should mix it up.

I bundled our three oldest kids into the bed belonging to Our Dear Goose (that would be our oldest kid; I know it must be difficult keeping track now that we have four animal nick- names!). My mind quickly searched for a song that is simple, for which I know all or most of the words, and that might appeal to our children.

Yellow Submarine it was. We all grasped hands, sat with folded legs on warm blankets, and lifted our arms up and down throughout the chorus. Both Goose and Mouse told me that they had heard this song before. I was a little let-down. I wanted to be the one to introduce our kids to such historically important and/or classic music (of which Yellow Submarine only falls into one category for me). Someone out there has beaten me to the punch!

I remember listening to this song with two of my best friends early in high school. Looking back, I think that Wade and I had the more sophisticated tastes in music, whereas Liam was into, among others, Wilson Philips. I'll say no more.

However, he was right to mock and laugh sarcastically when the three of us got to Yellow Submarine on the Beatles' album Revolver. At the time, I was so deeply into the Beatles and learning all that I could about their music that I regarded his snide remarks as blasphemous.

But it was an enlightening moment for me: It was definitely possible to love a particular group or singer and yet not put every song or album on a pedestal. Note: My music pedestal level was reserved for the Beatles, U2, and Simon & Garfunkel. I'm much more realistic about every other artist nowadays.

And for those wondering...

Yes, I will post some non-music and baby-centered updates soon!

Three Weeks Old

Baby Grouse is now three weeks old, and I dare say that we as a family of six are in a good routine at the moment. I'm going to be home this week for my third of four weeks of paternity leave, well-timed to the school vacation break.

Here are a few recent photos of our kids with their little brother. I haven't used our point-and-shoot camera much lately. Most of our Grouse pictures are on Becky's new iPhone (our family's first iPhone), and we haven't had time to transfer them or post them to our blog from her phone.

This is how Our Little Mouse poses and smiles when she has her picture taken lately. It can be cute, but it also gets a little old when all of our family photos feature her with half-closed eyes! Also, any day in which our kids get to spend the majority (or all) of the day walking around the house in pajamas is a big-win day for them!

 

The Moose and his little bro, the Grouse. These two will someday get along terrifically. I am excited to have two boys in our house now.  The Grouse wasn't so excited when, on Saturday, his big brother pretended that he was a doctor and bopped the Grouse on his head with "a shot" (as he called it) of medicine.

 

Why yes, he does keep us on our toes!

10 for the 50th

Sunday marked the 50th anniversary of the Beatles' first performance in the U.S. I missed posting about the cultural and musical milestone on the actual day because...well, we've got four kids under age 7 at home. I don't have time to properly set the historical context of the Fab Four's (by that I mean the Beatles, not our four kids!) arrival on our shores, and besides, others have done it better than I can. 

Such as Time. Or the Ed Sullivan Show Web site. Or Entertainment Weekly.

Sometime later, I've promised myself (and you readers now) that I will write a lengthy post about how I became a Beatles fan in high school, and how much their music still resonates half a century after their American debut. Look for that later.

But in honor of the Fab Four's 50th anniversary of storming the U.S., here are my 10 most favorite Beatles songs. You might look through this list and shout, "What?! No Hey Jude? No Can't Buy Me Love? What about Let It Be? You left out Yesterday? Are you serious?! Your Beatles songs opinions blow." 

I am serious. I love each one of those fantastic songs, except Can't Buy Me Love. For some reason, I've never liked that song. Hey Jude, Let It Be, Yesterday, She Loves You, I Want to Hold Your Hand, Eleanor Rigby, Revolution, Yellow Submarine...these are all off my list, and are probably collectively the most popular Beatles songs, the ones that the average person on the street could rattle off. 

I gave this list a lot of thought, and the songs I've marked here nearly span the foursome's entire career. That wasn't my intent, but it turned out that way nicely. Also not intentional, but cool in how it turned out: About half of the Beatles' major (i.e., non-compilation, U.S. non-studio throw-together records to capitalize on Beatlemania by publishing older songs) studio album output is represented by a song here. 

Glaring album omissions? Revolver and Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. Don't get me wrong. The former is a very solid album with a bunch of A-/B+ singles, while collectively, Sgt. Pepper is one of the all-time best records. I just don't especially like any one song from either of these albums enough to place it in my top 10. 

In no particular order, here are my top 10. Like Ed Sullivan tried shouting over the roar of a studio full of teenage girls: "Ladies and gentlemen, the Beatles! Let's bring them out!"

Strawberry Fields Forever. Released as a non-album single in 1967. An absolutely mind-shattering record and a galaxy away from their boy-and-girl songs of a few years earlier. 

P.S. I Love You. From the Beatles' first U.K. album, Please Please Me, in 1962. I love how, towards the end of the song, you can distinctly hear McCartney and Lennon trading off singing different vocals, adding their line just as the other closes his. "As I write this letter." "oooh." "Send my love to you." "You know I want you to," leading to the duo coming together to sing "remember that I'll always be in love with you." Though a very early song in their catalog, at a time when much of their songwriting focused on predictable boy-likes-girl stuff, it has a maturity that is striking when compared to Please Please Me, Love Me Do, and other material.

I've Got a Feeling. A bluesy number from their final album, 1970's Let It Be (though recorded prior to Abbey Road, which was released first). I'm not a fan of blues music, but it's a terrific song. It's also one of the few songs from the Beatles' live rooftop jam in January 1969. The vastly different tones in Lennon's vocals compared to McCartney's lend the song an awesome balance of optimism and pessimism, borne from the duo's separate private lives at the time. 

All You Need is Love. Also a non-album single, released in 1967. Its cacophony of sounds at the end is incredible. Aside from being one of my favorite Beatles' songs, I think it might be the Beatles' best song ever.

I Should Have Known Better. From A Hard Day's Night in 1964, at the height of Beatlemania. John Lennon wrote the song and played the harmonica on it, which lends a great deal to this cheerful single. 

In My Life. A Beatles fan could make a compelling case that this song is the band's best. It's very much a John Lennon song, from 1965's phenomenal Rubber Soul album, as Lennon began writing songs based on his childhood, and it almost exclusively features him on vocals. It's Baroque instrumental bridge is magnificent, and the story behind how producer George Martin recorded it to sound the way it does is cool. 

Here Comes the Sun. A sweet, innocent George Harrison composition from 1969's Abbey Road. It's optimistic. It's easy to sing along to. I sing it to my kids, just like my Dad once sang it to me. Nostalgia is a powerful force in music. There is a great write-up on the song's origins at Wikipedia.

Baby, You're a Rich Man. Surprise! Bet you didn't expect to not instantly recognize any song by name on this list. This is a delightful, trippy, and under-appreciated Beatles song, the B-side to All You Need is Love. Lennon's intro vocals sound quiet and distant. A synthesizer turns out an Indian-sounding whirling tone that adds, with the vocals, a massive element of psychedelic charm, offsetting the tandem shouting of the group on harmony. 

It's one of the best examples of the Beatles' musical experimentation, their blending of differing musical styles and influences, and of the musicianship of Lennon and McCartney, who combined two different, unfinished singles' lyrics (One of the Beautiful People and Baby, You're a Rich Man) to create a much better finished product. The song is buried at the end of the Magical Mystery Tour album, around a lot of other very strong singles that were not part of the eponymous film, and it's likely not on a greatest hits collection, so therein lies the reason for its flying-under-the-radar exposure in Beatles canon. 

I would rank Baby, You're a Rich Man among my top five Beatles songs; also in that top five ever? The two songs below:

Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown). A song in which Lennon makes references to a real-life affair he was having. He was married and had a two-year-old son at the time. Not cool. But what is cool is the sitar, which George Harrison introduced to the group's recording. In fact, it was the first rock song to ever feature this haunting Indian instrument. This version, not released on the 1965 album Rubber Soul, features the sitar even more than in the finished version. And no, at the end of the song, Lennon isn't singing about sitting in front of his girlfriend's fireplace.    

Ticket to Ride. From its mournful, droning opening chords to Lennon's melancholy delivery, it's a stunning single, from the 1965 album Help! I loved this song long before I got into the Beatles (in late winter 1990). I still love it. It's my favorite Beatles song, for how Lennon swoons "ahh" at the end of the song; for Ringo's different drum rolls during the chorus (listen to the song; he plays a different rhythm each time); for its jingle-jangle instrumentation; for its cornerstone legacy as a bridge between the pop music of their early songs to their deeper, more introspective and mature writing. 

Well, those are my ten. Give a listen, or listen to them again. Maybe it's been a while. What songs would be in your top ten? 

It's remarkable how much the Beatles stretched and grew as musicians in just a handful of years, and too bad that creative and personal differences eventually drove them apart as a band. But holy cow, what amazing music they created. Music that will live forever.

Two Weeks

Our Acrobatic Grouse is now slightly over two weeks old. He is up to the usual newborn antics: sleeping a lot, getting better at nursing, unloading in his diaper. One of the things I love about this stage is holding an infant upright against my chest and shoulder, and seeing his or her little head bobbing around. It's amazing to see that, even so small, they are trying to be strong and keep their head upright, before crash-landing into my collarbone.

Well, maybe they're doing it all themselves, or maybe it's just reflexes. I still don't know, four kids into parenthood.

On Friday afternoon, I got to spend my first completely-alone time with the Grouse since he was born. Becky took our three oldest kids around the neighborhood to deliver Girl Scout cookie orders. The Grouse and I didn't do much. I mainly just held him in my arms and toured through our first floor of our home, keeping him content.

Here is the little guy, now two weeks old. He's still a little jaundiced, and has not risen above his birth-weight, so our pediatrician today recommended that we start using formula in addition to him nursing. My impression over the last two weeks of my paternity leave was that, by the end of my second week, the Grouse was more alert and awake for longer stretches during the day. Here's hoping that he starts sleeping longer at night!   

Kryptonite

Hat tip: Superman (It's Not Easy), from the beginning of this millennium. As a longtime Superman movies and Smallville television show fan, I am excited to introduce this comic book hero to my kids as they get older. I had high hopes for last year's movie Man of Steel, but aside from the nostalgic background to Clark Kent, all of the adrenaline-fueled, way-too-fast action scenes (and Amy Adams) nearly ruined the movie for me.

Earlier last week, I took our three non-infant kids shoe shopping at Target. Mister Moo immediately set his sights on a pair of sneakers that light up. He has older friends who have such shoes, and he was momentarily elated when I agreed to get him a pair. Momentarily, that is, because that day was Zero Hour for his rough transition to being the big brother. We came home and he told Mommy, "I super man!" I am not sure how or when he heard about the Caped Crusader, but he's already on to him in a way that any two-year-old boy can be.

I played up the Superman theme, breaking out three of my scarves for my kids to wear as they raced around our home. Here are some grainy, blink-and-you-miss-it but-it-kind-of-could-be-a-child's-impression-of-Superman-changing-in-a-phone-booth photos of the moments when Our Mighty Moose charged through our living area on his first, home- bound mission as Superman:

"Daddy's head is a toilet!"

So said our oldest child in the car ride home from church today. Nice, huh?!

Well, that about sums up how I have felt over this first week of my paternity leave. I have felt like I've been used like a toilet.

Becky and I decided that, this go-around with a newborn, she would spend her days and nights in a "baby cave" in our master bedroom, just her and the baby, with all of the stuff the duo needed accessible in the room. A friend of Becky's recommended this "baby cave" approach, and so far, it has worked out well. Our Acrobatic Grouse is also doing well.

I delighted in knowing that I'd have two whole weeks to spend with my family. Specifically, I would take care of our three oldest kids: getting them fed, dressed, washed, to/from school, etc. I have been "on" day and night since Monday night, much as I was during my two-week Christmas vacation, which was leisurely and fun.

But unlike that stretch of time, this two-week stint started off not so hot. Our Mighty Moose was sick Monday night with an ear infection. He also has had a terrifically horrid transition to no longer being the youngest one. Tuesday and Wednesday, his attitude was positively wretched. Surly, physically abusive (by 2-year-old standards, so think lots of kicking), whiny, unsatisfied with anything I did for him or with him. By the time I took all three kids to our local chiropractor at 4pm Wednesday, my shoulders literally ached with stress. My stomach bulged with cookies and chocolate milk, my go-to during stressful times (well, that and cleaning the house; the dishes and laundry never give me sass).

In short, Mister Moo was unhinged.

I was also unprepared for his adjustment because, when he was a newborn, Our Little Mouse was the one who was no longer our baby. She was heavenly throughout my four weeks of family leave. I guess I just expected Moose to be the same.

He yelled at me or his sisters. I let off some steam right back. He pushed me away, sulked, and bossed me around. I was beginning to think this would be the new norm, especially as we entered the weekend. Friday was also the day that it really clicked with Becky and me that Moose's behavior is about his inability to properly convey to us how hard this transition is for him. So, there was a reason for his attitude. It doesn't excuse it, but it does make me give him much more rope, instead of having him on the short leash.

Some great friends took Moose for almost the whole day on Thursday. I needed a mental health day, and boy did I get it. Our Little Mouse and I had fun, and I had a breather from our monstrous two-year-old. When I picked him up, our friends said, "He's been fine all day! We didn't see any of what you've experienced."

Oh, but they did on Friday afternoon. One of our friends later said to me, "It was like he was possessed!"

Somehow, with time and the grace of God, I can honestly say that our little boy's behavior since Friday has improved, a lot. I no longer want to recount on this blog all of the specific tales of tirades and pulling-my-hair-out bouts with a stubborn little dude. There were many, and over the last few days, I thought, "It will feel good to recount these cranky spells in a blog post."

He did give us insight into his feelings this morning, though. While lining up to leave for church, and with Becky and the Grouse downstairs with us, Moose tugged a photo of Becky off our wall and said, "I don't like it!" So yeah, he's jealous of the time and attention that his little brother is getting, and angry that his mommy is tucked away in her "baby cave." 

Heading into my family leave, Becky and I thought that Moose would be 100% over-the-moon happy to have every day and night with just Daddy around, because he is a daddy's boy. The reality has been far different from what we imagined, but the reality of the last 48 hours is better than the toilet treatment he was giving me for days on end earlier this week.

No-Go Zone

 

Mister Moo has had an onerous adjustment to being the big brother 'round here this week. It has been an unbelievably difficult time for him (and me) as a result. Add the fact that it's a typically cold New England winter. Then add the fact that when we do try to leave the house to give Becky a stretch of hours of quiet time during the day, I run the obscenely high chance that instances like the above will occur.

 

Our Mighty Moose is liable to nap anytime between 1 p.m. and 5 p.m., and the later the hour, the more dire the consequences at bedtime. Bedtime in our house is usually 7:30 or 8 p.m. At almost three years old, Moose might still need a nap, but we have been conditioned by his bedtime antics to wean him off a mid-day nap over the last half-year. So, I have felt particularly limited in what we can do during the afternoon to a) get him out of the house and b) ensure that he does not fall asleep if we travel any distance greater than 10 minutes, because a drive of 10+ minutes almost guarantees that he'll nod off. 

 

In the instance above, we came home from shopping earlier this week. While I brought the food inside our warm home, I allowed my little boy to sit in his big sisters' bigger-kid car seat. Shuffling in and out with groceries, I chanced to see Mister Moo conked out in the "way back" of our Blue Bomber mini-van.

 

As it was cold outside, there was no chance that our milk would spoil. What would spoil, though, would be our regular bedtime. That's why I left the groceries for a moment and woke my son from his slumbers.

 

When I am a bit less irritated by his difficult transition to no longer being the youngest, I will post an entry about this week that we've "enjoyed" together. Tuesday and Wednesday were particularly tiresome and challenging, and while the frequency and intensity of his outbursts have lessened, he's still one sour bull a lot of the time.