Energy Policy and Our Son

I had written an Op/Ed a few years ago about how Bush had squandered America's galvanized collective resolve to do anything to combat terrorism post-9/11, when he failed to at least encourage Americans to do what they could to ween this country off Middle Eastern oil. Unfortunately, post-9/11, it was also almost impossible to get anything published in mainstream media that hinted at criticism of a Bush policy.

This Op/Ed in the NYT today brought it all rushing back to me.

You're thinking to yourself, "Hey, I came here to read about an innocent little baby and how he is interfering with your lives and I have to read a rant about energy policy?!" Well, my answer to you is that this is about how our innocent little baby is transforming our lives. Energy policy is now even more meaningful to me because it's going to affect my son's life in an enormous way. Is he going to live in a world powered by dirty fuels that pollute his little body while moving it inefficiently to and from daycare? Will he, like his daddy, one day be sending his money to countries that do not approve of his race, religion, and country of origin? Or might he look forward to a little sun and solar in his life?

My friend Steve flew into town a few days ago from Toronto. He was struck by just how environmentally unfriendly "progressive" California is. For example, he couldn't believe that there are no solar panels on the roofs here. He was in Israel last month, where all new construction must include solar. And I remember back in 1979, when I was living in Jerusalem, almost every building had solar panels - in 1979!

But not here in sunny Southern California in 2008. The US government's policy has been to keep dirty fuel prices low enough so as to undermine whatever chance we have at establishing a renewable energy industry of any scale. That may have been the easy choice over the past few decades but, post-9/11, it's criminal for a leader to be pushing for ways to keep our world dependent on oil when there are alternatives that can be implemented and encouraged.

Ultimately, in spite of US energy policy, these industries will become more established. Unfortunately, it is going to take decades longer than necessary and the push is likely going to have to come from countries other than this one.

Saturday Morning Chat

Morning is APL's favorite time of the day. He wakes up alert, happy, and ready to play (usually). Evening, on the other hand, is a whole different ballgame.

The Birth Story, by Doula Andrea

The following is our "Birth Story" written by our Doula, Andrea Liddle. It is written in her voice and is addressed to our son. We very much appreciate her having written it for us:

Click here to see the Birth Story.

Sweetness

The one month mark seems to have been pretty significant. The little guy is spending a lot of time smiling at us and much less time crying. Ultimately, it's impossible to know precisely what changed. Is it the swing? The swaddling? The Beethoven? Perhaps he just got to know us. Or maybe he needed a month to get used to the fact that he isn't going to be able to return to mommy's very comfortable tummy. Whatever it is, I like it!

Enjoying A Little Beethoven

Here is a pictorial history of his first 28 days.

The Diaper Change

I recall, back in the day, pitying my friends when their conversation would abruptly turn from romance and adventure and ideas and aspirations to... diapers and strollers and feedings and sleep schedules. It seemed so awful to suddenly be in a situation where your time was so consumed with mundanity that it negated practically all stimulating, intelligent, or interesting conversation.

And now, here is my diaper changing story:

I should begin by informing you that our son went three days without evacuation of his bowels. This happened about a week ago. Three days is a lot for anyone, but at the time it represented about 20% of his life. Imagine a single bout of constipation that went on for 20% of your life.

Thankfully, he has been more regular over the past week or so. I mention that history as a backdrop to this tale.

About 30 minutes ago, the little one started crying. It seemed that he needed a diaper change. So I took him up to the changing station. I opened up the diaper and found that he had, indeed, deposited proof that he was over the constipation issue. I cleaned him up.

Unfortunately, in the middle of the diaper change, he decided to prove to me that his bladder was working well. But I was well prepared. I used the new diaper to shield both of us. "No problem," I thought. However, just as I was patting myself on the back, he decided to give me additional proof that he is over the constipation issue. I caught it using another diaper that I had laid out for him. It was a tremendous juggling act but I masterfully had everything under control.

I then removed the 2nd soiled diaper and reached for a third. Just then, the little guy really erupted. And it didn't stop. He had set me up! He had lulled me into thinking that he was done. But he had saved the coup de grâce for last. I held his legs up to keep them from turning the room into a true environmental disaster. Then he started really screaming.

I'm going to make an executive editorial decision at this point and will omit further details.

I cleaned him up, changed his clothing, changed his diaper again, and then had to deal with the rest of the mess.

So there you have it. I am a changer of diapers and have the tales to prove it.

"So let me get this straight... You're telling me he was elected... TWICE?!"

Holy Cow - The Ins and Outs of Breast Pumping

I'm sitting next to Karin, listening to the breast-pump, as it empties whatever the little guy left behind. The pump makes a rather odd repetitive heavy-breathing guttural sound, perhaps like a giant ailing metronome might sound. Karin insists that it is saying "Holy Cow" over and over and over. Holy Cow. Holy Cow. Holy Cow. Holy Cow.

I wish I could post a video of the pump in action, particularly when she has 2 going at once. Here's how it works: Karin attaches one translucent, gun-shaped, plastic sucking attachment to each breast (barrel facing breast). Then she powers it on for the "Stimulation Phase". During this phase, the pump is going double-time. Holy Cow. Holy Cow. Holy Cow. Really fast. Karin's super-human, baby-ready nipples are then vigorously sucked in and out of each of the translucent gun barrels in unison. I vividly remember the first time I saw this. I walked into the bedroom and was confronted by Karin holding these two translucent guns to her breasts as she was being rigorously milked. Truly a bizarre scene. I remember thinking something like, "Good God! Now what?!" But now, perhaps a week later, it's just part of my daily life.

I do believe that this qualifies as yet another glamor-point for childbirth. Any more glamor in my life and I'll be calling Vogue for a photo shoot.

As for the pump we have, it's good... but it's a lowly home-model. Karin will be receiving a "hospital-grade" pump shortly. Don't tell Karin, but I'm planning on opening up a dairy. I mean, if we get the industrial pump, it's probably going to overwhelm a 4-week-old baby, n'est pas?

Holy Cow. Holy Cow. Holy Cow. Holy Cow. Holy Cow. Holy Cow. Holy Cow.

Day 24 - He's Smiling (and other milestones)

He's smiling... not exactly at me, but at a point located approximately 3 inches above my eyes. He can stare at that point on the horizon all day (or maybe one solid minute). And, if I move him in a certain way, he smiles. Dr. Karin says it's not likely. Others insist it's gas. But they're all dead wrong.

Yesterday represented another milestone for us. Our friends, Todd and Laura, brought over yummy Lebanese food from Mama's. We four proceeded to sit at the... you know, that device with four legs and a flat top, used by adults for holding food and socializing... it's surrounded by sitting contraptions... you know what I mean... the... dining room table! The little guy was fast asleep in his vibratoplex.

Today represented yet another milestone. We took our son for a walk on the beach. He adores the beach! Or so we surmised based upon his newly-decrypted Cryinglessness Scale (patent pending).

Most of the other milestones thus far have to do with spitting up or otherwise testing our reflexes with sudden substantive releases at inopportune moments - I shan't get into the details. Karin is particularly good at inspiring such surprises.

Trying out the Ergo

Post-Bris Conversation

The Scene: Living room of a spacious home near the beach. A Bris had been conducted on the little one the previous day. Karin is walking around the living room, holding her new baby.

The Conversation:

Uncle #1: You know, you shouldn't hold him all the time. You'll spoil him if you do that.

Karin (with just a hint of indignation): He had his Bris yesterday!

Uncle #2: Ohhhh.... If it's not one thing, it will be another. You will always find some excuse.

The Little Darling

He's cute. He's cuddly. He inspires strangers to ooh and ahhh and melt. He's a little angel!

And then he wakes up.

Not having much (read any) experience with newborns, I really don't know if this is how it works for all new parents. Our little guy communicates using variations on crying. So far we have heard the wail, the shriek, the howl, the yowl, and a very creative version of the screech. Apparently, the Baby Whisperer and Priscilla Dunstan can interpret each of these nuanced forms of communication and can pinpoint precisely what any baby needs. Mere mortals, however, have to study, listen intensely, watch closely, and then guess.

Exactly what is one to do when the baby is dry, fed, warm, cuddled, and crying? Feed again, of course (poor Karin). These tiny little guys eat often. Every three hours is typical. But sometimes it's 2.5 hours or less. And sometimes a single feeding lasts for an hour and a half. In case you feel compelled to do the math, "time between feedings" is counted from the beginning of each feed.

Of course there is more to the baby than just eating, crying, sleeping and feeding. There are diaper changes, for example. Those generally can be placed in the "crying" category. And yesterday he had his first tub-and-water-based bath. He seemed to like it initially but then opted to establish it as a "crying" category activity as well.

I don't think this is supposed to be written in polite society, but I don't like the crying - on a number of levels. First off, it really hurts my ears. Secondly, it forces me to try to figure out, often without success, what il bambino is trying to communicate. What if I do everything possible to make him comfortable, satiated and clean and he still cries?

And while it is not easy for me, I can only imagine what it's like for Karin. She is going through the same thing, plus she has to feed him constantly, is enduring considerable pain in her nipples, perineum and now in her plugged duct, rarely is able to sleep, and receives contradicting advice from everyone she talks to.

Ahhhh advice. Advice merits at least a post unto itself. Let's just start with Mary Schmich and Baz Luhrmann's take on the subject: "Advice is a form of nostalgia... Dispensing it, is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts, and recycling it for more than it’s worth. But trust me on the sunscreen…"

Plugged Duct

We are going on day 18. It's tough. But it's late and I have to be up early tomorrow and probably a few times during the night as well... so I'll write about it soon. I do have to write about it... particularly because everyone tells us that amnesia is the key to having more kids.

Bris Video

...will be available this evening (nothing graphic). Please email me if you wish to see it.

Congratulations to Zachary and Catherine on the birth of their daughter yesterday. This marks our son's first time having a younger cousin!