There are some ideas that are absolutely brilliant. Sliced bread, automatic dishwashers, phones with mac software on them, and my new favorite, the baby swing. I actually don’t call it a swing. I call it the “heavenly daddy-back saver.” (or HD-BS) It is truly the most amazing machine I have ever encountered. Here’s how a typical usage goes:
I hear Ben Jr starting to “pre-fuss” (a maneuver involving loud coos, a few grunts, and his face wrinkling up like it’s beginning to melt). I grab up the baby bundle, and bounce across the room. Baby Ben is not content with small bounces, either. The big, 2 foot, exaggerated bounces are the only ones that will do. I generally can get him to stop fussing (or prevent him from starting) in about three bounces. But then I have to continue until he falls asleep.
Enter the HD-BS
I place him in (which was rather nerve-wracking the first time… “where do you think this strap goes, and what’s that squeaking?”) and bundle the blanket all around him. One twist of the knob starts him swinging. He initially protests, and starts to melt his face again. I stay within ear-shot and give him a standard “shh-shh-shh” The nurse at our childbirth class said that sound mimics mom’s heartbeat from the womb, explaining it’s cathartic effect. The combo of the shh-shh and the HD-BS lulls him back into contentment.
Then, my back muscles kick up their feet, break open an adult beverage, put some Jack Johnson on their iPods, and relax.
Thanks, Josh and Stacy, for the HD-BS. Your reward will be in heaven, and worth at least a million bucks.
It has been fascinating watching little Ben become more and more alert, as well as increasingly responsive to the world around him. I’d love the ability to read his little mind as he goes about his days. Here’s how I imagine it going:
You would not believe the three weeks I’ve had. These strange masked people grabbed me, promptly cut off my belly-button buffet, and started prodding all over me. Everything was so bright. I could really have used a nap, but every time I got close to one some new-sounding and equally blurry person came and poked on me some more.
After the first few days, life isn’t so bad. I get to eat all the time, and get this… instead of it going straight in my belly, it goes through my mouth. I know, I didn’t see that coming either. I have to say, it’s pretty sweet. The only downside is that it doesn’t all stay in there. It comes out the other end. What a strange design.
I recognize two voices. One is the person I was inside all the time, who now is the one who feeds me. She’s really pretty, and is becoming less and less blurry. The other is a deeper voice… the same one that used to only tell me in a really muffled way about “Tar Heel basketball” —whatever that is. He is much scratchier when i lay on him to take a nap.
So I got hungry the other day, and tried to say “hey mom, can I eat now?” And you will not believe what came out of my mouth. It sounded like a mix between a siren and a weedeater engine that is out of oil. Needless to say, mom couldn’t figure out what I meant, so she took off my pants. I tried again to let her know the problem, and this time when the siren went off, I peed on her. I didn’t mean to, and I’m not proud of it, but it happened.
The last thing I want to mention is the strange mini-world they put me in from time to time. The rest of the world is a sort of muted tones, Banana-Republic-meets-Goodwill sort of place. Then they plop me down in this place that seriously is sensory overload. Words can’t describe it, but I’ll give it a shot. Take a rainbow, a giraffe, several mirrors, a parrot, something that looks like a stuffed chicken, a palm tree, and a half gallon of kelly green paint. Mix them all together and stir vigorously. You are getting close to the looks of my mini-world. Most of the time I just close my eyes and pretend to sleep to avoid the headache.
So that’s a glimpse into my boy’s world. I think. I’m just impressed he can already tell we shop at Goodwill.