I really appreciate those of you who tell me what a joy it is to have a newborn. I can imagine the differences in being a parent to a ten-year-old and a teenager far more than I will ever be able to put into words what it is to shepherd someone through the first two weeks of life. It seems like everything is new; that’s why every look is celebrated, every moment captured on film (take my word on this). As a Virgo I like quantifying things, so once I found out we could track Sarah’s “input and output”, as it were, I was all in. Sadly enough, that too has ended. Now we just take for granted that she will eat enough and ‘void’ enough to get healthy. We’ll visit the pediatrician again this morning; this is all routine.
The words used in child care are different. For instance, you would never say “May I go to the bathroom? I need to void.” Maybe we should. And I’ve discovered something very zen-like about diaper changing, especially when Grasshopper is taught his lessons by the Master. Sarah’s trick is to wait until I get the first diaper off, and have wiped her down; then she will ‘void’ herself of any liquids. Then she looks at me, and looks away as if to say “you have much to learn still, Grasshopper.”
Bless her heart though, she lets me watch tv. I don’t know if it’s harmful or not (Lord knows, she’s in my lap or on my chest FACING me so as not to lure her eyes with all the lights and whatnot) for her to be with me while I’m watching, but one day I will be able to tell her that she saw most of the Ottawa-Buffalo conference final in 2007. I was about eight months old when Bobby Orr won the Cup for the Bruins in 1970. We were living in Keene, NH, so it’s possible that I was even watching it. Anyway, at one point last night, I had Sarah on my tummy, Spencer (our older cat) on my lap, and Jack Bauer creating mayhem on tv. I couldn’t feel either leg, but I was strangely content.
