I grew up in North Carolina. We didn’t get much snow. As a kid, we’d drive to the north for Christmas with my grandparents. I understood that further North meant colder meant greater likelihood of snow. What I didn’t understand was that Richmond, VA — not so much “North.” Still, we’d take my sled up, strapped to the bike rack on the back of the family VW bug. And it did snow, in Richmond, just enough to keep a kid’s hope up — though an actual white Christmas was still pretty rare. As a result, the song “White Christmas” really resonated with me. Not only could I dream of a white Christmas, I could almost physically ache for it.
Welcome to Fruit Fly Club Med: Altoona. I’m your host Armando. Here at Fruit Fly Club Med: Altoona, you’ll find all of the normal Fruit Fly Club Med activities, from leisurely, loopy flights around the kitchen, to banana naps. Enjoy our nightly feast featuring a fruit platter with a garbage amuse-bouche and an occasional kitty litter surprise dessert.
But here at Fruit Fly Club Med: Altoona, we also have extreme sports including human baiting and disposal diving.
Here’s something I hate: Reaching down to pick up a piece of dirt off the laminate floor only to discover, after I’ve squeezed it between my fingers, that it’s the kind of dirt that comes out of the back of my cat.
Daddy’s Girl — good thing
Momma’s Boy — not so much
h2. What they have in common
When she wants to be fed, she wants to be fed now, and she’ll keep telling you that until you feed her.
She hates having her claws clipped.
Pooping is an any time any where sort of event.
She like to fall asleep leaning on daddy.
She naps like it’s going out of style.
She loves being where it’s warm.
She squeaks to communicate.
Sam has begun vocalizations that aren’t cries. For the most part, they are simply cry-parts vocalized outside of a period of fussyness. So instead of saying “waaannnh”, she’ll bust out with just the occasional “aannh”. She’s made a few others though. Being careful not to project interpretations of French professor mommy and gamer daddy, we’re pretty sure she wants to go to Arles(pronounced “aahrl” — it’s in France) where she will play GURPS(pronounced a lot like a hiccup — presumably 4th edition).
Newborns get all kinds of screens. One of the ones I had been insisting on was the one for Cystic Fibrosis (CF) — I had an aunt die of CF, and so statistically, I had a pretty good chance to be a CF carrier. When the pediatrician said that we’d get the CF screen at the one month checkup, I thought that she meant that they’d take the blood for the screen then. I guess that it actually meant that it will take that long to get the results. They haven’t drawn blood since That first rough night after our initial hospital discharge.
Somebody should do a thesis on Sleep patterns in vulcan children. This morning, more than ever, as I was trying to get Samantha back to sleep after her feeding session, did I wish I knew the Vulcan nerve pinch.
Dear Samantha,
As I write you this first of monthly newsletters, you are asleep in my lap. One of your arms is raised straight up in the air, fingers spread wide, with your index finger slightly forward of the rest of the arc of your fingers. If I could reach the camera without disturbing your rest, I’d definitely be preserving this for posterity. I enjoy how you still don’t quite understand that the various parts of your body belong to you, and while there are ways in which I’m very much looking forward to your maturation, I will miss this phase. You melt into whomever you’re lying on. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Sam is 4 weeks old today, but other than that, I don’t have a lot to say about her. She continues to eat, sleep, poop and pee. Sometimes she’s relaxed and engaged. Sometimes, she’s inconsolably cranky. In the tradition of Heather Armstrong, I will start a monthly journal — a newsletter to Sam, but that won’t come out for another couple of days — on her one month birthday.
Mom and dad are starting to get into a little more of a routine, but there’s still not enough sleep to go around. There are still concerns about weight gain and milk production. There’s alway something to worry about, though it only gets the better of us on rare occasions. We’re still eating, feeding, cuddling and cooing, and, on rare occasion, sleeping.
