February 14, 2005

In a sports town like this jinxes run deep and cockiness is a sure sign of apocalyptic events. Case and point: me. Remember my post For Just 2 Cups of Coffee a Day…? Why, it was but one post ago. Yes, well you can take that and throw it between Bill Buckner’s legs. It jinxed us. No sooner did I post that than did the aliens return with my child. He-who-cries-for-no-apparent-reason. So the search continues.

That’s the thing about jinxing. It doesn’t matter who does it. It’s just about counting your chickens before they hatch. Or any other such cliche.

For instance, I will never say anything like the following: (in fact, I’ll use a made up name so as not to doubly jinx us) “Heleosa (that’s the made up name) will be an all ‘A’ student.” Nope. Will never come out of my mouth. Even if Heleosa has all ‘A’s in every class until that point, I will never ever make a grand pronouncement that that sort of great achievement will continue.

The thing is you can’t reverse jinx either. By that I mean, you can’t pronounce him to be an all F student so that he does better. Fact is, if by all ‘F’ student you meant 60s he would be relegated to 50s. That’s how it works. Anyone who has watched the Pats for any length of time knows that any announcer’s statement such as, “Antoine Smith hasn’t fumbled in 1,000,000 carries” means that he will fumble not only the next time he touches the ball but also at the worst possible moment.

That’s how it works in New England. Don’t let our recent sports teams’ success fool you. Any true New Englander believes in the power of jinx. I mean, I can’t be the only one that hasn’t washed my Troy Brown jersey in 2 years.

It’s our anniversary today, not because we are cheesy romantics, but because last year when we got married Valentine’s Day happened to be on a Saturday. So this year for our first anniversary, we’ve ordered delivery from Elephant Walk, one of our favorite restaurants and we are hoping for a sleeping Hayes when the food arrives.

Maybe Hayes will give us a sleep for a present. Let’s hope! I got Jen a very special present for our anniversary. It’s pink and blue (currently — that color changes frequently), weighs a bit over 10 pounds and well… it’s Hayes! She got me the same thing! Way to be original, Jen.

February 13, 2005

For about the price of two cups of coffee a day, granted it’s Boston Starbuck’s prices, we seemed to have solved HBomb’s explosions. Yup, it’s the formula, stupid. When we first made the tough decision to go to formula we decided upon the same formula Hayes had been enjoying in the hospital, Similac Isomil Advanced. Shortly after we arrived home, Hayes started going from mild-mannered newborn to incredible hulk style temper-tantrums for no apparent reason. Or, so we thought.

Turns out it was the formula. Not the brand, which was perfectly fine, it was the powdered form. For some reason it gave him gas — lots of it– and he was very unhappy about it. We bought the powder because it was about 30% cheaper than the premixed stuff so the savings we realized of about $10 for each can seemed pretty great.

But after all his fusing, we decided we had to make a change. Being a relatively scientific thinker — or at least scientific for a graphic designer — I began trying to rule things out. First went his sleeping. He wasn’t sleeping and he didn’t want to either. So, it wasn’t that. Then came the burping. He wouldn’t burp, unless you count butt burps, so it wasn’t that. Finally, it turns out the only thing we could change was the formula. So formula it was. We thought it might just be the copious amount of bubbles that appeared when we shook the formula and the powder, so we tried making large batches in the industrial strength Waring blender we have. It looked better, but Hayes didn’t like it better.

After an impromptu visit to the pediatrician on Friday for what appeared to be an eye infection (it wasn’t) we stopped at Target when I dropped a chunk of change on 1 Qt bottles. Jen opened one up in the car to feed him but he ended up falling back to sleep. We returned home and continued to feed him what I thought was the new formula. It wasn’t. Jen was trying to use up the last of her blender mixed stuff, so after being up with him until 11PM, I switched to the premixed bottles. Hayes fell right to sleep. I thought nothing of it.

It took me about 12 hours for my addled head to come to the realization that Hayes’ good behavior was not, in fact, because he had been replaced with a new baby by alien abductors. Nope. It was because of the premixed formula. That’s what I think, anyway. What other change happened the same day he became a model baby? Nothing as far as I can tell. Jen refuses to say it, as she’s afraid admitting it will jinx it. I told her that he’s not the Red Sox and you can’t jinx a win just by saying something like “they’re going to win this one.” Then again, the Red Sox are no longer the Red Sox… so my jinxing analogies are in need of some updating.

So if you have a colicky baby and are doing the formula thing, I highly recommend you try changing to the premixed stuff to see if it helps. I know it’s more expensive. I mean I’m going to have to give up either my crack cocaine or X habit just to pay for it. Take it from me, there is no expense that should be spared for a happy child and wife.

February 12, 2005

OMG an alien must have abducted my son last night as we slept and replaced him with one that likes to sleep. This kid has slept almost 6 hours today. Where did my son go? And will this new one stay this way?

Jen and I are out getting some groceries in this small village store in the country, about 30 minutes from our apartment. Jen sees this guy at the deli counter who looks vaguely familiar to me and goes over and gives him a big hug. It’s obviously someone she works with, but I can’t quite place him. They start chatting it up, he asks how things are going. I’m grabbing a gallon of milk and some bread. He asks about the baby and a wave of fear instantly washes over me.

Holy shit! We forgot the boy! Holy shit, this is awful! I can’t f’n believe we’re such bad parents. Do I have to write this in my blog? It’s not that bad, right?

For some reason we go and pay for the stuff, but I feel more like dropping it and sprinting out to the car to speed home. Maybe we can call the neighbors and explain what happened. I mean they’ll understand. Besides new parents must do this type of thing all the time since we’re suffering from lack of sleep…

Flashback to reality in one of those Saved By the Bell style dream clouds, ‘cause that’s about when I realized I was dreaming. Or, more precisely, having a nightmare. It all seemed so vivid… seemed so real. And in my nightmare I actually thought about — I actually contemplated — whether I would have to chronicle this on my blog! So for all you out there who wonder (like I do) about my dedication to my blog or what will and won’t make these… er… pages… no…. this html, know this: I was going to write about how I left the HBomb at home to do some shopping. Fortunately, bad parenting in dreams doesn’t count.

February 11, 2005

So the Karate Kid is making a comeback according to a CNN.com article, The once and future ‘Karate Kid’. largely because Gen Xers remember it fondly as a good tale of morality that they want to pass on to their children. Macchio has even watched it with his kids and now more closely relates with the Mr Miyagi character than his own portrayal of the punk-ass kid, Daniel-san.

More interestingly, however, is the fact that Ralp Macchio is 43. HOLY SHIT RALPH MACCHIO IS 43! I always thought of the Karate Kid as being about my age. Not the Hilary Swank, Karate Kid 4. Nope, the Ralph Macchio character. I forget that Ralph played the 16-year-old Daniel-san when Ralph was, like, 72. I also forget that we count Ralph Macchio’s age in dog years. I mean look at the picture, he looks like he could be cast as the kid in Home Alone 13 tomorrow.

Now I feel really old. I thought that perhaps that realization would be brought on by having a child. I was wrong. It’s the realization that Daniel-san is freakin’ 43. 43! Shit.