The EAOD Onesies

Most people likely to read this blog know that I was in a band called Everything Absent or Distorted (a love story)...also known as eaod...for about five years and that we played some shows and made some records.  Those of you who know me well know that it was a fun time in my life during which I got to pretend to be a rock star and go on an honest-to-goodness tour.  Those of you who know me really well, know that being in eaod was extraordinarily meaningful to me and that it was more than just a band.

Rhoda and I, and now Rye, are fortunate to be members of the eaod family and we are everyday-grateful for the the other members and their contributions to our lives.

One such contribution (of the material sort) is a collection of hand-made eaod onesies that Andy M. originally made for the first eaod baby, Bosley.  Bosley's little brother Hayes then became the beneficiary until he outgrew them and they were passed to Rye.  She wears them proudly.

If you are interested in hearing eaod, I put together another little blog that has all of our work...downloadable for free here.

Dad Defends the Fort

Rhoda went back to work Thursday.  Or, as we've taken to saying around here, she went back to her stupid job.  For any colleagues reading this, her job is not stupid.  It just feels better to say that as you walk out the door and away from domestic bliss each morning.  I know from experience.

But I digress.

I have taken a few days off to stay home with the little girl before we start her in day care.  Over the last two days, Rye and I went on four long walks, went to target, listened to records (the most recent Broken Social Scene album was on heavy rotation...Rye likes the song about the art house director, which happens to be my least favorite on the record), hit the grocery store for stir-fry ingredients and coffee, drank breastmilk from a bottle, played with a stuffed frog (Mr. Frog...I know, it's like naming a cat "Kitty"), danced around the house, tried to eat a rubber giraffe named Sophie (see below), napped (see below) and thought about Rhoda.

 
Oh, and I introduced Rye to the hilarious concept of making fart noises on her stomach.

Sorry for the shoddy camera work.  There was kind of alot going on.

Valentine's Day Tradition

No, not the tradition where Jody and I would exchange the cheesiest Valentine's Day gift we could find (usually purchased at a Walgreens). The tradition that my Mom did when I was a kid on Valentine's Day.  She would always give me a new pair of pajamas, one year even a matching pair for me and my cabbage patch doll. I am hoping to continue this tradition with Rye. Here is Rye's Valentines outfit:

The Sleep Negotiation

The last couple of nights have been a little rough.  Rye has been experimenting with the idea of sleeping only while being held.  We're trying to discourage this little exercise and there have been lines drawn in the sand and ultimatums (or is it ultimata?) issued.  The current score is:

Infant: 3
Parents: 0

But we are resolute.  And we are trained litigators with lots big words at our disposal, so we've begun the process of negotiation.

This is a photograph of what I saw as I explained to Rye that even though she was sleeping comfortably in my arms, I was awake...and so it did not make alot of sense when considered in the context of me needing to sleep maybe just only slightly fewer hours a day than her.  I thought she looked receptive to my arguments...if not slightly distracted.

Then I started talking about how I expected more from a three month old and that we also needed to discuss the number of diapers she was burning through in a given week, and I lost her...

Then I went on to say that maybe we should talk about why we needed so many toys all over the place and suggested that she perhaps choose 3 or 4 that she really liked and we could give the rest away...and I really lost her.

So, I gave up and decided we could talk about whatever she wanted to talk about.  I think she was telling me about the awesome dream she had while I calculated how many minutes of sleep I could fit into the remaining 5 hours of nighttime.

This is what we do on Sunday mornings

Rye does not care what color you are or where you are from...or what you are, even. She's just glad you wanna hang out.

For the last week or so, it has been that sort of cold that makes it hard to breathe.  You can hear the crackle of the moisture in the air freezing as it rushes into your lungs when you step out the door in the morning.

When it is cold like this, it is nice to have weirdly shaped and oddly colored stuffed animals to cozy up with.

Seriously, I don't know what these things are, but I'm banking on them teaching Rye the value of diversity. 

The Fatherhood Conundrum

One of the unresolvable conflicts associated with being a dad is the one that pits a desire to spend every waking (and, frankly, even sleeping) moment with the little girl against the desire to make sure she never has to worry about the economics of growing up in a sometimes cruel world. My dad introduced me to this conundrum through years of hard work and planning that catapulted me into my future as an adult.

Perhaps it isn't really a conundrum. For it to be a conundrum, there would have to be competing alternatives. The alternative that I daydream about involves the three of us being together all the time. I'm pretty sure that alternative can't compete with reality.

And so, I've taken a few minutes out of a pretty busy day to write this from my phone. On days like this, I have my daydreams...I also have the pictures that Rhoda often sends me throughout the day from back on the ranch.

This post contains a few of my favorites.

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