A note from Fred

It seems Christie has too little time to blog, so let me take the opportunity.

There have been a few changes around here. Just a few. (Hope you sense my sarcasm). You know why she has no time? Because she spends every second with the little one called Dominic.

A guy lives with his people for 10 years and you expect life to keep on rolling the same everyday, until BAM! One day they bring a little mini human home. Sure they introduced us to him out in the yard to be respectful, blah blah blah. But so what. It's not like they weren't going to take him on in the house whether Iris and I gave our blessing or not.

I feel like I'm stuck in a cliche Disney movie, only Iris is much less romantic than the Tramp. So I'm lacking the whole romantic comedy angle in my version, and what good is that movie without the spaghetti scene under the moonlight? I'll tell you- it's no good for the dog who just had a baby move into his house.

No barking in the house. (Well this was kind of a rule before, but trust me, they are serious about it now!)

You'll have to wait for your dinner. The baby gets fed first- BOO!

No more walks. Stroller + leashes = a headache for everyone. How about subtract the stroller instead of the leashes??

People who come to visit are not here to see you. I feel seriously ignored.

Blankets layed on the floor are not for you. Maybe I would like to lay on a blanket- did anyone think of that?!

New squeaky toys are not for you. Um...?

Stay away from the diaper pail. I swear I'm always in trouble.

And Jesus, be careful when getting a drink. Every time my tags clank against the water bowl I think Christie is going to jump out of her skin. I can't even get a drink in my own house!

And could a guy get some petting once in a while?

I knew something was up when Christie started looking very swollen. Something was not right. Well, we know how that one turned out. I'll know better next time. Learned my lesson.

Yep, babies are no good for the dog.

Though... he did pet me for the first time yesterday. It was pretty sweet actually. And he does smell good. And he's starting to try to talk to me. So maybe I might like him...

No! I'm sticking to my story. A baby is no good for the dog!

(I think...)

Month One

Dominic is one month old today. It's one of those time frames that has flown and inched all at the same time. It's a 24 hour gig, so I feel every hour. But the hours have become more joy filled and less anxiety filled. My little boy is a wonderful communicator and has taught me what his different signals mean. I can now shift my appreciation to his slate-blue eyes that more and more often lock with mine, or his little milk-laced tongue that shoots in and out of his mouth after eating. And as crazy as it sounds, I've grown to enjoy the 1 am feedings. It's so quiet and peaceful, dimly lit, and sweet. My baby has kindly grown to sleeping good chunks of night time, so we only get up once a night (most of the nights, knock on wood...).

I've especially loved getting to witness this new little being experience everything for the first time. He has become a pro at transitioning from the bath to the towel Dad holds open for him. The first exit from the warm water was with a panicked screeching of a poor baby who had never felt the immediate cold rush to wet skin. Today he made me laugh with another first. My friend Danielle has asked me if he's learning that his hands belong to himself yet. Until now, I said, I'm not sure. Now I can say, no, he still has no idea where these hands come from or who controls them. Today, as he lay on the couch swimming away with all four limbs, he reach up and grabbed a fist full of his own dark duck-feathery-hair, and then squealed. Someone was pulling his hair! The hand did not let go, so he squealed again. Finally the hand released, and he looked at me.

I'm looking forward to the hand-discovery, because I fear he thinks I might be the one always smacking him in the face, and now pulling his hair.

Dominic

And the journey begins.