Shots and Signatures

Day 2 of the Dad Administration brought with it a couple of major policy issues that needed addressing: health care and the budget. Both would be major items to be dealt with at Ella's 2-month doctor's appointment today. With no honeymoon period after the inauguration to ease into the job, I had the most unfortunate duty of taking Ella to a place where I knew ahead of time that she would be treated like a pin-cushion. That's right: today was the first of many future Shot Days. Clearly, as you can see here, Ella had no idea what lay in store for her as we got ready to leave the house. That wasn't the only thing making me a bit nervous about this little trip. Not only did I have to bring in my daughter like a lamb to the slaughter, but I also had to address the issue of asking the Doc to sign a form so that my paternity leave would be a paid leave (thanks to the large sum of unused paid sick leave I've accumulated over the past few years). Oddly enough, I was much more nervous about the latter than the former.

Normally, Ella spends the bulk of her mornings fast asleep. Not today. Because her appointment was for 10:45 - smack dab in the middle of what should be a peaceful, 3-hour nap - Ella was already quite tired when we got to the doctor's office. While waiting in the nearly empty waiting area, Ella tried to doze while I looked for something to read. It didn't take long while reading Parenting magazine to realize just how rare the whole "Mr. Mom" still is. I figured that 20 years after Keaton and Garr's gender-role swap, it would be a lot more common place. Apparently not so much. The title of Parenting is a bit misleading, as it really should be called Mommying. I think I saw a father in the magazine just once, and that was in an ad for some easy dinner option for mommies on the go.

Finally, Ella's name was called. (I really think it's cute the way they call the patient, even when she's too young to do anything about it.) First order of business was the weigh-in. Here's Ella's Tale of the Tape:

• Weight: 13 lbs, 7 oz (up from 9 lbs, 2.5 oz just 8 weeks ago) - 90th percentile
• Length: 24.25 inches (up from 22.25) - 90th percentile
• Head Circumference: 15.75 inches (up from 14.5) - 75th percentile

The Doc then showed up quite promptly and began mowing through his standard spiel: playing with the patient, feeding issues, sleeping habits, safety lecture ("always in a car seat," "never leave unattended on changing tabe," etc.), "any questions"?

"Well, yes, just a couple." For some strange reason I felt that I had to preface my "Will you sign this form?" question with something medical that a truly involved parent would ask. The best I could come up with was about the rare black stringy things that occasionally show up in Ella's diaper. Once the Doc had addressed that, I had nowhere else to go. Time to pop the question.

In my moments of self-introspection ("self-introspection" - is that redundant?), I'm rather mystified as to why I get so worked up and nervous about simple things like this. I haven't yet been able to put my finger on it. Yet, even without understanding this phenomenon, it's something to behold. There I sat, a trial lawyer who can deliver a forceful closing argument to an audience of strangers completely impromptu, nearly tripping over my own tongue trying to get a coherent request out of my mouth. My performance was a mere step above babbling. My heart racing, I spit out something (I really can't remember what it was I actually said) and shoved this form in front of him. Initially, he looked at me, then the form, then me . . . and my blood pressure skyrocketed as I felt like I'd been caught turning in a parental notice form of getting in trouble at school with my Mom's forged signature on it. (Yes, I did that. Mom knows of the one time . . . but I had actually gotten away with it once before!) Fortunately, my anxiety was quickly calmed: once the Doc began reading the form, he saw the acronym "FMLA" on it. A half-breath later, his signature was on my form and the Salyers Family Budget was back on course for the next two months.

Now there was only one thing left to do. Actually, it was three: Ella's little body had a date with not one, but three hyperdermic needles! Fortunately for her, the Doc uses a particular immunization shot that combines three into one, else it would've been five shots! At that point, the Doc smiled and said "I'll see ya in two months." That's right: while some of us (me) have to do the no-fun stuff (take Ella to get shish-kabobed), others get to leave (Doc) and let the underlings (Nurse) do the dirty work. As I sat there alone with Ella waiting for the Nurse, I thought, "Man, I need an underling."

By the time the Nurse arrived, Ella was passed out despite the blinding white lights right above her. Her condition brought a dilemma: do we wake her from her peaceful slumber to try to reduce how startled she's likely to be by the needle, or do we let her sleep and hope that she sleeps through it (the principle works in surgery). On the Nurse's suggestion, I woke her up, but just barely. With eyes still rolling around on the brink of consciousness, in went the first needle into her left thigh. Immediately Ella's eyes flared open for a quick millisecond before they were snapped shut as part of the loudest and most intense cry I've ever heard issue forth from my sweet little daughter's cherubic face. Witness the contrast:

Amazingly, however, Ella didn't cry all that long at all. After the initial burst, she only cried for what felt like a total of 20-30 seconds, and that included Shots #2 and #3 (also in the thighs). In fact, she probably would've stopped crying sooner had I picked her up right away, but I wanted to document the event in pictures first. Nevertheless, she quickly calmed down and resumed sucking on her pacifier and trying to find sleep again. I was so proud of her.

The doctor's visit is now behind us. No more shots for two months, and Dad will be on the hook for that one, too. But, praise the Lord, my 10-weeks with Ella will now be paid, and that is no small blessing. This last picture illustrates a good lesson learned: crayon band-aids are fun, but they do not make shots hurt any less!

Transfer of Power

Today's the first day under the Dad Administration. I originally was going to title this post "Regime Change," but clearly Little Ella never sought to overthrow the prior Mom Administration. Rather, this is like the governor who's term limit has expired and somebody new has to step in. Enter me, Ella's Dad.

So far, this morning has been both eventful and uneventful all at the same time. I felt like today was the first day of a new job: with my alarm set for 6:00 a.m., my eyes were wide open at 5:54 a.m. It was really tough watching Amber getting ready to leave for work, a task she had no desire to undertake. I can't imagine what that drive was like for her. She didn't utter any words when she walked out into the garage - only a forced half-smile. It was clear the thought: if I open my mouth to even say "good bye," the crying will start and I won't be able to stop it.

Tough as it was, the garage door shut and the new administration had begun. Like clockwork, Ella awoke around 7:30. Mom already had put her breakfast in her bottle, so all I had to do was change the diaper and get to feeding. Breakfast went off without a hitch; many solid burps rang forth. After downing the entire bottle, it was time for a little mirror magic to document the event in pictures. Here's the best of an admittedly motley bunch of photos. (Call me many things, but photogenic will never be one of them.)

The first breakfast behind us . . .
After breakfast, the agenda called for 45 minutes or so of playtime on the floor with Ella's favorite toy, her Fisher Price 3-way piano thingy. Then it was off to the changing table to completely change Ella's clothes, as they were soaked with the morning's breakfast review. Gone, too, was the orange shirt Dad had on. It now lays on the floor, awaiting a date with the washing machine to remove Ella's contribution from the shoulder. I think I shall follow Michael Keaton's lead and be wearing more button-up shirts in the future. Such shirts are much easier to remove when laden with vomit than the over-the-head variety.

Ella's now asleep, as is her custom in the mornings. Time for Dad to now take a breath and get some things done.

Doin' the Michael Keaton thing

And no, I'm not talking about Batman. My days of fighting crime are over for the time being, as today is my first official day being at home and starring in the role of "Mr. Mom." Where I used to be known simply as "Lance," I'm now "Ella's Dad." For the next 10 weeks, I will be fighting dirty diapers, mountains of laundry, and the hunger pangs of my little Ella. But for a few sentencing hearings for trials I just had and a hearing for a defendant to withdraw his guilty plea in which I'm a witness, I won't have any need to wear a suit, tie, or dress shoes until June. All I need now is a collection of flannel shirts and other moms for playing poker for coupons.

For the most part, I'm very excited about this. I've been looking forward to this ever since Ella was born on 1/17/05. When I was 14, I spent my summer taking care of my then 6-month-old sister, Sarah. Here's hoping I didn't lose the memories of how I did that amidst the experiences of high school, college, law school, marriage, etc. I'm anxious to begin really connecting with Ella in the way that her Mom has been able to these past 10 weeks.

Another, though much smaller, part of me is a bit nervous as well. This past week made me think for the first time: "What in the world am I getting myself into?" Ella's going through a stage in which she would only be content when her Mom was holding her. A couple of times I came home from work after a tough day in trial, and found Ella at peace (either awake or asleep) in Amber's arms. As I tried to hold Ella while Amber made dinner, Ella would start to whimper, than cry, than scream, than really get angry. Nothing I tried would calm her down except one thing: returning her to her Mom. Now, starting tomorrow (Amber returns to work on Tuesday), I'm the only one here for Ella. Here's hoping that phase was a quick one.

I have in my mind expectations on how I think this is all going to work. I have plans for things I'd like to get done while I'm home for the next 10 weeks (like writing, both here and at Ragged Edges). However, I'm keenly aware that all those plans are subject to the whims of my darling daughter. It should be interesting to see how this plays out.