What going outside is like

I have a whole new appreciation for stay at home parents. Tess's daycare was closed and I had comp time so she and I spent the whole day together. We could've just sat around the house eating, sleeping, and shitting our pants together; that would have been a huge piece of cake. But we had a long to-do list to accomplish today.

I'm ever thankful that Tess is such a laid back baby. She went through her doctor's appointment with flying colors. The guys at Batteries Plus gave her funny looks but I don't think they get many babies in there. (By the way Batteries Plus, the battery pack you made doesn't work. I'll be back for my $18.00.) And the lady at the bank almost came through the unnecessary "security" plexiglas to hug you.

But as cool and chill as Tess is, taking a baby around makes every task a little more difficult. It's not the actual moving her from place to place; physically going to locations is easy. The grocery store for example; park near the cart receptacle, place baby in shopping cart, go grocery shopping. It's the other people that make running errands with a baby difficult.

It's a very awesome feeling when other people stop me just to look and smile at Tess for a few minutes. They asked about her name and age and proceeded to dote on how cute she is. It's fantastic, it really is.

But here I am; out of the house, with an infant, by myself. I have a scruffy beard (and head), wearing jeans that were in style during the "It's-ok-to-be-white-and-wear-baggy-jeans" era and a UGA sweatshirt that's spotted with baby food. And that odor you smell is a combination of my unclean body with a dash of baby poop from the two AMAZINGLY dirty diapers I've already cleaned today. (Tess shits like a giant panda.)

What makes you think that I have the time just to hang out and talk to you, a perfect stranger at the grocery store? I have shopping to do, dinner to make, laundry to do, other errands to run and RIGHT NOW this baby is as close to an angel as it going to get. You want to ruin my day by tempting the fates of what she's going to do next? She could decide you're scary and burst out crying. She could decide that it's time to blow out her diaper. Or she could decide to sprout wings and a beak and bite your nose off. I'm new at this and most of the time I'm not sure what comes next.

Like I said, I have a new appreciation for stay at home parents that do this on a daily basis.

Flick this

I finally got off my ass and uploaded a ton of photos to Flickr.

Tess June/July
Tess 1st photo shoot
Tess's 1st Brew day
My Vegas trip from last August
Rockette's media tour
Tess September
Tess October

White whining

Breaking what some would consider to be the first rule of blogging; this is about blogging. A boring and self-serving topic to say the least.

I wish I wrote more (whine), I wish I had more time to write (whine) I wish the Super Bowl commercial starring the "Green Police" didn't scare the fucking-awesome-chili-Dave-made, out of me (FACT).

I need to write. It accelerates the mental process of events and emotions through my alcohol and drug (prescribed) laced brain. Writing is therapeutic. It's a good thing. I miss it.

Speaking to myself; I will try really hard to make the time to write more. And also to document more of Tess's shenanigans. As a disclaimer, here's a Bart Simpson chalkboard.

My job is awesome!!!

I just finished chatting with someone I don't know who, in the middle of the phone call said; "Hold on, I have a leg cramp." She proceeded to have a Very loud 40 second oragasm in my ear. Not being able to hold it togeter, I put her on mute and laughed my ass off. When she finished, she said; "I'm so sorry for this obscene phone call." and promtly hung up."



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Tess - 8 months

Dear Tess,

A coworker handed me a bunch of clothes for you to wear when you're bigger, say around the time you're 3 to 4 years old. The clothes themselves are cute, brand new, and came with the big bonus word of FREE!!!

But looking at these clothes was like being hit by a rocket powered 18-wheeler piloted by Chuck Yeager on cocaine. Shit.....you're going to get bigger. Much, much, much, MUCH bigger. I can't imagine you wearing those dresses or wearing shoes that look like real people shoes. Looking at the clothes made me wonder what you're going to be like and what you're going to look like.

All of this pondering led me to one fairly easy to arrive at conclusion.

I HATE THE IDEA OF YOU GROWING UP.

I like it about as much as you like having your face washed. Which is to say, I want to throw a screaming hissy fit about the whole damn thing. I'm aware a tantrum isn't going to do any good. It did make me realize that I should be more aware of these fleeting moments and probably document them more often.

And speaking of washing your face; since you started daycare your nose is one constant stream of mucus. I have never imagined or wanted to imagine the volume of snot that you're able to put out on an hourly basis. It's as if you're part snail and you have to cover the earth with your clear oozy slime trail to get from one place to another. Gross, cut it out.

Other new party tricks....you wave. Better explained, you're mimicking. When someone enters the room and they wave at you; you wave at them. You also started lifting your arms to indicate that you want to be picked up. This is especially noticeable when I pick you up from day care. When you look up at me, realize who I am, smile and then raise your arms at me, it is the best part of my day/week/whatever. It's those moments I think I could explode with joy. And all this from a thing that a few months ago, couldn't do anything aside from cry, eat, sleep and drive me and your mother absolutely bat shit crazy.

You're scooting and rolling over at will. Not crawling yet, but scooting on your butt just a few inches in any direction to obtain a toy or get closer to the dog. This means I've started looking at ways to secure the TV to the entertainment center and the entertainment center to the wall and other devices to make sure you can't slime the DVR and DVD player with your snot covered hands. I love you, but I love Lost and my electronics more.

Final note. You've been eating "solid food" for I think about a month. "Solid food" meaning pureed stuff out of a jar. No one tells you this before you become a parent but the poop of an infant goes through a dramatic caterpillar/butterfly like metamorphosis when you add "solid food". Your poop went from a thick yellowy liquid to solid adult-style poop with a smell so horrific that most times, I want to scream HOLY SHIT CALL THE CDC!!!! And it is absurdly sticky. I'm fairly certain we could rebuild Haiti using 2 x 4's and your poop as the cement.

Love,

Dad