From the House of Paradise: May 2007

Monday, May 28, 2007

I’ve found that most people like to paint the world in broad strokes: good and evil, liberal and conservative, Cubs fans and Sox fans. To these people, there is very little nuance in the world.

These people keep telling me having a baby is similar to having a puppy.

Ha

They're about as similar as a roller coaster and a Shuttle launch.

One experience fills you with nervous excitement, the other requires you to wear a diaper because you’re likely to shit your pants.

When Finley was 8 weeks old he was weaned. We’ll be lucky if Jack will be weaned (metaphorically speaking) at 18 years.

In his first four months of life Finley has learned where he can go to the bathroom (and just as importantly, where he can’t go to the bathroom), how to climb onto the couch, and he plays fetch (when he’s in the mood) like a pro. He knows how to sit, lie down, and where the park is. He’s learned that ‘leave it’ means he shouldn’t put it (stick, sock, the insole to Penny’s shoe) in his mouth, at what time he eats breakfast, lunch and dinner, and he’s figured out that when we leave the house it’s ok, and we’ll be back relatively soon.

In Jack’s first four months we’ll be lucky if he learns how to keep his head up.

There’s really no accurate (or rational) comparison.

It’s the difference between a kite and an F-15, between a goldfish and a nuclear submarine, between my paycheck and Bill Gates’.

I don’t have to watch my language around Fin. He’ll never have to be taught how to read, drive, not get his girlfriend pregnant (someone tell me again why it’s ok to neuter your dog and not your son).

When Finley is old and grey and can’t climb onto the couch by himself anymore, Jack will barely be old enough to take his driver’s license test (and his younger sibling will be getting ready to enter high school).

Fin is happy with a scratch behind the ears and a nickel-sized hunk of dog biscuit. I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure kids need a little more affection and attention than that.

There are some similarities. They are both mammals. They will both live in our house for the foreseeable future. They both require that I continue to be gainfully employed.

I guess the devil is in the details after all.

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

When you’re about to have a baby everyone offers plenty of advice, most of it in the form of well-intended nonsense like “it’s really gonna change your life.”

Really, having a baby changes your life? I hadn’t thought about that…I mean, after all I’m only 39 years old.

They tell you anecdotes and culturally accepted truisms, most of which are not particularly helpful because of their inherent vagueness. Subscribing to cable (or canceling it) also really changes your life.

Allow me offer my own truism in the form of a slightly more specific sound bite:
Having a baby is the biggest decision you will ever make, exclamation point!

Ever.

Nothing compares - not moving out of your parent’s house for the first time, not your career, not buying your first car or your first house, not adopting a pet.

Not even who you marry.

Once the decision is made the mechanical aspects are relatively easy: ovulation, penetration, insemination.

As a former insomniac these have become the strangest of days.

I’ve never been much of a dreamer, as least not when I’m asleep. I’d have the occasionally zombie nightmare (sorry Penny), but for the most part I would wake up not remembering any of the visions I’d had while sleeping.

Not so anymore.

It’s weird how the words ‘dream’ and ‘hope’ have become synonymous.

The first hope is the simplest one – a healthy baby.

Do you want a boy or a girl?

I don’t care, as long as it’s healthy.

C’mon, you gotta have a preference…boy or a girl?

Seriously, as long as it’s healthy, that’s all I care about.

You have to…

H E A L T H Y baby.

I want ten of what there should be ten of, two of what there should be two of, and one of everything else arranged in what would generally be considered an attractive manner.

But then the imagination wanders a bit. I mean, no one hopes for an average baby (if you’re gonna dream, dream big). I like to think that he’ll be smart enough to get into a good college (if that’s the route he wants to take).

Penny and I are creative people so maybe he’ll go into the arts…be a painter or sculptor or a Pulitzer Prize winner for fiction (I’m just sayin’).

I was a pretty good athlete, and there are worse ways to get a scholarship.

Here’s the thing. I just want him to be as happy as he’s already made us, because the truth is no matter what anyone has told us, no matter our concerns and other peoples’ horror stories and the cruel realities of the universe, I’ve never been happier in my life.

Friday, May 18, 2007

The faces of Finley.

Friday, May 11, 2007

Finley loooooves the couch. There must be something in the material of couches that affects dogs in a similar fashion that catnip affects cats. I'm actually thinking about starting a company (not really) that sells furniture designed specifically for people with dogs. I can create an entire line - Dognip Home Furnishings. We can make beds, recliners, even dog car-seats.