Week 55 Pictures

Week 55 pictures are now up at the Smugmug site. Click here to view the next installment.

Reilly says, Enjoy my dad's last post as a New Yorker. See ya'll in Florida.

Pack it up, Pack it in, let me begin...

In lieu of a pithy email about my daugther, I submit to you the fruits of my labor:

Teething, Round IV

Reilly is currently teething in her molars. One of the symptoms of teething is extreme irritability. Yesterday, as Reilly threw herself to the ground in a fit of crying, I turned to Shawn and said, "Is it possible that Reilly is entering her terrible twos?"

Another symptom of teething is excessive drooling. Reilly has been drooling to the nth degree lately, to the extent that the saliva dripping from her mouth resembles a leaky faucet. For those who think this is an exaggeration, I considered writing "a wide-open firehose."

Donna (Reilly's grandma) was recently a witness to the power of Reilly's drooling, as our daughter soaked through three shirts in a little over an hour. After awhile, we just gave up and let her go shirtless, to conserve her onesies.

I submit the following photo as evidence:

The incident of the child at the daycare

Yesterday when I picked up Reilly from daycare, I asked Jenya the usual question: “How was her day?” Since Reilly had been sick the last several days, this was more than the typical cursory question—I really wanted to know. How was her eating? Did she nap? Was she cranky? Did you have to use her pacifier much? Jenya easily answered all the questions and I was happy to hear that Reilly had a good day and is officially on the mend.

At that point, Joyce came by and mentioned that she wanted me to review and sign an incident report. When I asked why, she mentioned that one of the other children had bitten Reilly on the cheek. I could tell that Joyce and Jenya both felt really bad about it, and I empathized with their position. I consider myself a pretty easy-going parent, but I imagine that there are other mothers and fathers who wouldn’t react as well to news of their child being bitten.

I reviewed the incident report and signed at the bottom. The report essentially listed what happened, how it happened, and how to avoid such an incident again in the future. I chuckled when I read the last line. I mean, these things are unavoidable, for the most part. Children move so quickly that most of their accidents are unavoidable. There have been times that I am playing with Reilly, with her less than a foot away from me—with my eyes right on her—and she has fallen down and hurt herself.

I was surprised to be on the signing side of the incident report anyway. Reilly recently went through a biting stage in which she would chomp on Shawn and me whenever she got very excited—much like a puppy would. I thought for sure I’d come into daycare one afternoon and have the incident report waiting for me, detailing Reilly’s crime. So, I didn’t hold a grudge on the other child for biting my little baby. Reilly is so cute, it was probably a crime of passion anyway, right?

When I picked up Reilly from her crib, the mark confirmed my guess: It looked a little like a kiss, one crescent of red on the top of her cheek, and an opposing crescent on the bottom.

From the Archives: July 23, 2005 - Age 29

This archive entry is from Reilly's second week. When I look back on this entry now, it is so easy to see that Shawn was suffering from post-partum depression. Unfortunately, it would take us at least a month to get her help, and six months before she was well again.

Our second week as parents has been an emotional one. Of the two of us, Shawn has been challenged the most. With her hormones crashing and having to be awake every couple of hours to breastfeed, tearful outbursts can happen at any moment. She’s prone to cry at any little thing, rational or not. For example, she had a good cry about the fact that Reilly will never be two days old again, and that one day (eighteen years from now) our daughter will move away from us.

I have been struggling with the emotion of Reilly’s birth myself. With Shawn, I had months—years, really—for my love for her to develop and grow strong. I had time to get used to the idea of committing to someone with all of my being for all of my life. With Reilly, the love I feel for her is so strong, and so sudden, it is truly frightening. I have had to distance myself from that emotion several times this week to prevent myself from entering the space that Shawn has been forced to dwell in. Shawn does not have the luxury of being able to distance herself, so strong are her hormones, and so intense was her experience, to carry this child for nine months and to give birth to her, a new life, all by herself. It is impossible for me to understand the depth and charge of the emotion that event must have carried for her.

The third member of our family, Reilly, seems as happy as an infant can be. At her “weigh in” at the pediatrician on Monday, we found out that she put on eight ounces last week. She officially grew out of her preemie clothes on Thursday, which Shawn found to be a happy development. We have many outfits to try on our little diva!

Reilly is averaging three to four feeds per night depending on when we start “the night.” Her favorite activity is to be fed in the rocking chair, and then drowse on her mother’s chest. We’re happiest when she falls back to sleep immediately after the feeding, but there is something wonderful about having her awake and alert at 4:00 in the morning, with the world around us quiet. All we can see are her little dark eyes. We wonder what she can see.

Reilly is getting to know our faces, probably because we stare at her at every moment we have, studying every detail of her face and body. She returns the favor by staring right back at us. Her neck is growing stronger, so she is able to direct her gaze at mom or dad, depending on who is smothering her at the moment. As Reilly puts on weight, it seems to me that she is beginning to look more and more like her mother did as a baby. Reilly also appears to be gaining coordination in her arms and hands. Some of her movements seem concentrated, as opposed to the random, jerky arms and feet she was born with. This is most apparent when Shawn is talking to Reilly and the baby reaches for her mouth or hair.

During her awake time, we talk, sing and read to Reilly. Our favorite book is “Mommy’s Best Kisses,” as it gives Shawn and excuse to kiss all over her baby’s little body. Because of all this kissing, we keep Reilly rather clean. She enjoyed her second and third bath this week. Mom is the official baby washer, and dad is the photojournalist. Reilly loves spending time in her crib and looking at her mobile, her stuffed animals, or at herself in the mirror. We’re surprised at how independent she is. She rarely cries just to be held, and isn’t afraid to hang out by herself in her bedroom. When she does cry, it is typically only to say that she is hungry. With those cries, Reilly now has tears, which was an interesting and heartbreaking development. The biggest development of the week, however, was when Reilly’s crusty belly button stump fell off. (We promptly tossed it in the trash. Yuck!)

The cutest moment of the week was on Tuesday morning. Shawn and I woke up before Reilly and propped ourselves up on our elbows so that we could look at her sleeping in the crook of her mom’s arm, swaddled in a pink blanket. While we were looking at her, she stirred in her sleep, said, “Ma-Ma-Ma,” then fell back to sleep. Shawn and I nearly melted at her pseudo-baby babble. All this cuteness has earned Reilly a number of nicknames, including: boo, bubaloo, and baby dinosaur. The last nickname she earned from her propensity toward emitting strange reptilian noises at any hour of the day.

Reilly’s second week with us has flown by, and I am chagrined to know that I have to leave her and return to work on Monday. Many things have come to pass this week, including Reilly’s original due date, which was Sunday. We’re so glad that she came early—we could barely wait to meet her. We can’t wait for everyone else to meet her too.

From the Archives: July 23, 2002 - Age 26

Today I was looking out the window of my office, down 8 stories to 60th Street, where the cars, trucks, and busses were congregating. The street drew my attention because of a commotion—a fire truck trying to navigate the traffic, sirens screaming, one of those double-decker open top tourist busses blocking the way. The most immediate color was yellow—taxicabs cruising by despite the jam. Eventually the fire truck slipped through and rumbled off to its destination, yet I did not turn away from the scene. I was not really looking at anything specific any longer, absorbed instead in the thought that there I was, looking out over midtown Manhattan, at my job, in my city. Though it has been a year now, there are still moments that I am amazed that I am here, in a place I never predicted nor expected to become my home. A smile and a shake of my head in wonder, and then back to my desk I went.

Week 54 Pictures

I've only a few pictures to post today. With Reilly being sick for the majority of the week, the camera has been put away. Unfortunately, picture taking doesn't seem to have any positive effect on a feverish baby. Still, you can click here to view the few we have.

Here is a great shot from the beginning of the week, before her illness set in:

Taking a Sick Day

Reilly’s sick today with a high fever. Her illness is either a reaction to the chickenpox vaccine she had on Tuesday, or “Hand, Foot, and Mouth” disease. I wish I was joking about that last one, but apparently, the HFM disease is going around daycare, and since Reilly catches everything that goes around daycare, my money is on that.

It’s been a pretty terrible Thursday. The problem is not just the fever, but also the fact that my once docile medicine-loving daughter now thinks it is best to spit out the liquid Tylenol/Motrin that I have been trying to give her. Just a few minutes ago, I finally got a full dose in her. For the first time today, she is not alternating between crying and lying lethargically on the bed watching Barney. Instead, she is standing in the middle of the room and crying. It’s an improvement.

Back to my nursing duties…

The BIG NEWS

Note: I wrote this entry in longhand a couple of days ago, but was only now able to type it up and post it to the web.

Yesterday, I returned from vacation. Today, I settled in and started the tedious process of unpacking, paying bills, firing off emails, and catching up on all those other parts of my life that ran on without me while I was away.

One of the things I caught up on was Amalah's blog. In her entry from July 10th, she broke the news to the internet that her family is moving from D.C. to Virginia.

For the last few months, I have known that we are moving away, but have not yet mentioned it in this blog. Not a word. Part of my reticence comes from the emotions linked to leaving the City. I forget who it was, but someone once said, “Once you live in New York City, every other place will be nothing more than second best.” So, as I’ve packed boxes and written resignation letters, I’ve also been in intense denial that any of this is actually occurring.

Shawn and I came to Manhattan five years ago so that I could attend The New School for my master’s. The plan was to be here for two to three years. I even named my blog at the time “Two to Three.” Like many people, Shawn and I not only found jobs, made friends, and scored an apartment, but we also fell in love with the City. When I got my diploma after just two years, we weren’t ready to leave.

I’m still not ready to leave, but I must. The demographics of our family have changed, and suddenly our one-bedroom apartment has gone from charming to cramped. More importantly, a vise has clamped around our finances; we have fit in baby food and diapers and daycare, but the thought of preschool makes my wallet scamper for the hills. Also important in the equation is our fatigue: we have worked hard to be the parents we expect ourselves to be and it has been a terribly hard task for two people to undertake alone. In the end, you can only burn the candle from two ends. You cannon splice in an extra wick for more money or an extra pair of hands.

From the start, we have had a list of pros and cons in our heads in the battle between Florida and New York City. Old home vs. New home. When people ask why we’re moving, I say that the scale has finally tipped in favor of leaving. Now, it’s time to go, and today, it is time to tell it: we are moving. To Florida. On July 29th, we are packing up a truck and driving our life back down to where we grew up, to where our family is, to the second best. Are we sad to leave? Yes. Are we happy to be leaving? Yes. But mostly we are afraid.

The city had defined us as people for the last five years; it has left an indelible mark on our personalities. To leave the City is to leave a little of ourselves behind. In some ways, that is a good thing. One more than one occasion, I have thought, The City is killing me. Of course, the City is also a place of much brilliance, a metropolis that defines the term “melting pot.”

Today, Shawn, Reilly and I sat in the waiting room of our pediatrician. In the room with us was an Indian man speaking French to his daughter, and a German woman speaking her native tongue to her two sons. While they waited, they made small talk with us in English. It was such a beautiful moment, the different cultures united by one common factor: we are New Yorkers. In the end, that is what I will miss the most: the tolerance of the people who live here, people from all over the world who live together in peace, as a model of what America is, what it should be, and what it will surely become if we are to succeed as a nation.

Getting into everything

Today, there was a heat advisory in the City because the temperature was supposed to reach 100 degrees. (It did.) Because of the heat advisory, it was recommended that children not be outside between the hours of 11:00am and 7:00pm, which is essentially the bulk of Reilly's day.

Reilly and I ran out at 9:00 this morning for a quick stop at the drycleaners, to pick up a few items at Whole Foods, and for a swing at the Union Square playground. I was in shorts and a collared shirt, and I was sweating bullets.

It wasn't much better in the apartment, where we were confined for the rest of the day. Our brave window unit worked its hardest, but was only able to keep our living room cool. Using our highly accurate duck bath thermometer, we were able to get a reading of 97 degrees in our kitchen. At 5:00pm.




Being inside was tough on everyone, but most difficult for Reilly, who desperately wants to stretch her legs and show off her newfound walking skills. To assuage her boredom, she took to climbing into anything that would house her little body. This included her radio flyer wagon, her old bathtub (currently stored in the middle of the living room), a large flower pot, and a small basket. The latter of these two are pictured below:

From the Portfolio of our Budding Young Artist

341 days

Cape Cod has always been a very special place for me. I spent all of my formative summers there, from Reilly’s age all the way up to my middle teens. Every little corner of Brewster carries with it a memory for me, from the big oak tree of the cemetery to the lifeguard chair down on the beach.

My mom’s side of the family is well rooted in the area, and each year that I go to the Cape, it ends up being a reunion of sorts. This year was no different, in that we shared a cottage with my cousin Lesli, her husband Chris, and their daughter (and my god-daughter) Sophia. Also present were my aunt Sandy and uncle Peter, my cousin Mike, and my cousin Keri, her husband Doug, and their kids Madeline and Logan.

Why list all this family? They provided endless entertainment for Reilly, especially all the kids. Reilly learned from her cousins very quickly, picking up their mannerisms, their jokes, their words. Before the trip, Reilly’s vocabulary included the words: hi, bye, ba-ba, duck, dog, baby, ball, and thank you. After the trip, she has included a new word in her lexicon: “uh-oh.” This morning, when she was done with her breakfast, she threw the remaining blueberries off her tray and said “uh-oh” as each hit the floor.

Reilly probably learned the most from her Nana, who offered to take Reilly at every spare moment. Most often, Reilly would take her Nana by the hand and lead her over to the nearby playground, where they would alternate between the ball court and the swings. My favorite thing my mom taught Reilly was how to kick a soccer ball. I didn’t think my daughter was old enough to have the gumption necessary to consciously kick a ball, but my mother has more faith, and within just a few minutes, had Reilly kicking away.

Between modeling the behavior of her cousins and the frequent trips to the playground with Nana, Reilly learned a skill that she’ll use for the rest of her life. That’s right, readers, we now have a walker on our hands. If I had to put a date on it, I’d say yesterday was the day where she did more walking than crawling. Today, she hasn’t crawled yet. This morning she strung together 20 consecutive steps to the applause and wonder of her parents.

The great thing about her walking is that it tires her out very quickly. In fact, she is sleeping as I write this entry, her little one-year-old body filling up the crib, a big girl at last.

Week 53 Pictures

We're back from our vacation on Cape Cod and are unpacking our suitcases and recovering from our trip. While I try to cobble together the many changes our daughter has undergone in the last week into a coherent entry, here are a few dozen pictures.

Click here to see Reilly experiencing a Madeline hug, sucking on rocks, and enjoying yet another birthday party.

From the Archives: July 16, 2005 - Age 29

Well, we're off to Cape Cod for a week. Hope this tides you over until we return...

First journal entries are hard. It is difficult to select a single topic from a week full of firsts: first child, first diaper change, first burp, first bath. For this reason, I’ll begin this entry on the second day of our new daughter’s life. On that morning, I awoke in my apartment to a quiet room, the air conditioner humming from the window. I felt no early morning drowsiness, but rather an instant alertness, and within that frame of mind, I thought of the first thirty seconds after Reilly was born—right after I cut her umbilical cord, and the doctor put her to Shawn’s chest. Shawn looked down at Reilly, then over to me, and in those few seconds, as our eyes met, we connected a way in which the whole world fell away, and all that remained was intense love. When someone asks me how it feels to have a new baby, I say, “awesome,” and when I say that word, what I think of was that moment.

That morning, as I lay in bed, I also felt another emotion, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what the feeling was. All I knew was that I felt different. The first time I had felt this difference was when we were still in the labor and delivery room. Shawn was having difficulty delivering her afterbirth, and I was holding her hand and rather fruitlessly trying to comfort her. When all the blood made me feel a little queasy, I stepped back from the bed for a moment. When I turned around, the hospital bassinet was there, and in it was Reilly, jerking her arms and legs. The sight of her caught me by surprise, and I realized that I had forgotten she was there. In fact, I had forgotten that she existed at all. I thought, Oh yeah. Wow. I have a daughter.

Soon, I got out of bed, and walked over to St. Vincent’s hospital to reunite with my wife and baby. I made my way up to the ninth Floor, and then over to the room labeled “S. Overcast.” When I walked in, Shawn was there with Reilly. She debriefed me on how her night went, and then asked me how I was feeling. I told her that I felt proud, and happy, and in love with our new daughter. I also told her that I felt different in some way, though I wasn’t quite sure what the emotion was. She smiled at me. I think she knew, intuitively, what I was trying to express.

As my first week with my new baby daughter has progressed, I’ve learned so much about her, what her patterns are, what her diapers smell like, how angelic she looks when she sleeps. I have felt her warmth as she napped on my chest and I have felt my heart jump as she made eye contact with me for the first time. That day in the hospital when I forgot Reilly was in the room seems distant, because everywhere I go—every minute of the day—she is with me. I realize now that I feel different because I am different. In my life, I have been a son, a brother, a husband. Now, I am a father.

The One Year Check-up

Yesterday in the late morning, I was giving Reilly her lunch when the phone rang. It was Shawn's mom, Donna.

"Whatcha doin', Brian?"

"Feeding Reilly."

"Want some help?"

"Ha-ha-ha."

"No, really, I'm downstairs now. Buzz me in."

"Seriously?"

"Yessssssssss."

So, I buzzed in Donna, and Reilly was able to spend a surprise day with her grandma. Reilly was a little shy at first, but warmed up to her grandma by the time we had to leave for her doctor's appointment.

Let's cut to the chase, shall we? Reilly's 12 month check-up went exceedingly well. She was pronounced healthy, both cognitively and physically, and as nurse Doris said, "Is growing on her own curve."

To that end, here are her statistics, as generated by this percentile calculator:

17lbs, 13oz = 4th percentile
2 feet, 4.5 inches = 24th percentile
46cm head circumference= 73rd percentile

These stats match up pretty well to those of her 9 month check up. You can review them by clicking here.

***

Since we're leaving for a week of vacation out on Cape Cod tomorrow, I'm posting Reilly's Week 52 pictures a day early. Check back tomorrow for a special "From the Archives" post.

This week's pictures feature two kids stuffed in a swing and Reilly's first cupcake. Please click here to view.

Cupcakes taste good!

You gotta run, run, run, run, run from the robbers…

Yesterday, Shawn and I stopped into Party City to pick up a few things for Reilly’s first birthday party. While we were there, we strolled down the toy isle. This was my first experience in the toy isle with a child, and it didn’t take long to realize why most parents avoid the toy isle at all costs.

Reilly wanted to touch everything, and to prove her earnestness, made every attempt to throw herself from her stroller. (I have been thankful on more than one occasion that our stroller has a three-point harness.) To appease her, I picked a red rubber ball off the shelf and handed it to her. The ball immediately went into Reilly’s mouth.

Shawn and I finished up our shopping and then paid for our items and left. We took 14th Street to 6th Avenue, turned downtown to 11th Street, where we crossed over to where 11th intersects with Greenwich Street. A block later, we met up with Brian and Chris, Shawn’s co-workers, for a coffee.

After the usual hand shakes and hellos, Brian started smothering Reilly and I turned to talk to Chris. He reached down into Reilly’s stroller and picked something up.

“Is this new?” he asked. He was holding the red rubber ball.

Shawn and I could only laugh. We’re such irresponsible parents, to be teaching our daughter to steal at such a young age. We should have at least waited until she was five.

From the Archives: July 5, 1989 – Age 13

Note: for context, this was written in my first ever journal, a blue, single-subject notebook with college ruled white paper. My mom, brother and I were spending the summer as we always did, in Cape Cod. This entry is not particularly interesting, but does give a view of what was important to me as a 13-year-old boy. The “skills and drills” I refer to in the first line were a series of soccer drills my father had outlined for me to do every morning in preparation for club soccer tryouts at the end of the summer.

Did my skills and drills in the early hours as usual. Played capture the flag at the ball field. Ate lunch. Fluff and Oreo’s. Ya! Played waffle ball. Mike and I vs. Drake and Andy. Score: 40-5. We won! What a cremation! Watched a tennis doubles match for awhile, then watched Mike beat Super Mario Bros. II without warping! Wow! Then we ate dinner. French bread pizza! Yum! After that we went to Andy and Dave’s. I had to babysit Stephen at 8:15. Then I had to write in my journal. Here I am. All caught up! Syanara!

I pledge allegiance...

Happy 4th of July, everyone!

Five more things you might not know about Reilly

1) In the last “Five things” entry, I mentioned that Reilly had learned to point with her index finger (instead of the middle one). She now applies this newfound skill as a form of communication, using her finger to point at things that she wants me to give her. For example, yesterday she had stuffed like seventeen Cheerios into her mouth, and didn’t have enough saliva to get them down, so she pointed to her sippy cup and looked at me imploringly.

2) At least once a day, Reilly will look up at us, hold her hands out, palms up, then shrug and say, “Doe?” She says it with a tone that implies she is questioning something.

3) Reilly is up to five consecutive steps now. Yesterday, Shawn and I sat across from each other and let Reilly practice walking back and forth into our waiting arms. At some point, she decided that five steps weren’t really necessary—just two big steps and a jump. She literally threw herself into Shawn’s lap. I’m afraid we’ve got a real daredevil on our hands.

4) Reilly grows chattier by the day. One of the new conversational tools she has is mimicry. For example, this morning, I said, “Hi bugaboo!” and she looked at me and said, “Bay-boo.” She’ll do this several times a day with different words. It’s thrilling.

5) When Reilly is hungry, we take her into the kitchen, strap her into the highchair, and make up some food for her. Lately, while she is watching us get her food out, she will say, “Munna, munnna, mun,” indicating to us that she is ready to eat.

A bonus, sixth thing you might not know about Reilly:

6) Reilly seems to have her own gravity. Whenever we are out, from the sidewalk to the subway, people come up to speak with her. They comment on her eyes or her hair or her jelly sandals, and then Reilly sends them away on their new orbit with a wave and a smile. She has the uncanny ability to change the mood of even the sternest New Yorker.

Week 51 Pictures

To view the Week 51 pictures of our baby girl, click here. Your picture of the week:

Important note: I recently found out that Google and other search engines are able to access our Smugmug site and index our photos of Reilly to Google's site. Though the public can view Reilly's pictures from this blog, it seemed a bit excessive to have her photos available through a Google search. For this reason, I privatized all of Reilly's galleries on our Smugmug site.

What does this mean for you? Well, if you go directly to our Smugmug site, you will not be able to view Reilly's galleries anymore. However, if you click through the links on our blog to her site, like the one above, you will be able to see her photos.

It's a tricky thing, the Internet. There is always a pendulum swinging between free access to information and free invasion of your privacy. Now, go look at some cute baby pictures to relieve yourself of this ponderous discourse.