Emotional muscles in their infancy

So, you've been jogging consistently, lifting some weights and riding your bike on occasion. You're in pretty good shape, right? Well, you decide to play basketball with kids 15 years your junior and the next day your body feels ravaged. Muscles ache in places you didn't even realize you had muscles. You're sore because you're using under-utilized muscles. The great thing is, that your muscles (the ones you didn't know you had) are breaking down, but when they rebuild they're stronger. 

Yesterday, Sarah called me in tears. She was at the doctor's office with Simeon, and he had just received his first round of vaccinations and I could hear him crying in the background. Meetings be damned, I wanted to drive to him and comfort him. But I couldn't. I've progressed (I think I can call it that) in my career to the point where I have real responsibilities. But these responsibilities felt very flimsy in the moment. I gutted out the rest of the day, and drove home as quickly as possible. I needed to hold him.

When I arrived, he was clearly not himself. He had a rough day; you could see it all over his face. The timbre of his cry was one I hope to never hear again. After thirty minutes of crying, Simeon fell asleep. 

He was exhausted, and I was wrung out. 

Sat down for dinner, and started to cry.

Walked by his room, started to cry.

Laid on the couch, started to cry.

I asked myself, "What's become of me?" Even that made me cry.

The only thing I can figure is that I've had some emotional muscles that haven't seen much (or any) work and have become atrophied.  I suspect that these emotional muscles really only see work once you become a parent. This theory makes me feel slightly better about being a blubbering idiot, at least.

I was discouraged that these emotional muscles felt so weak. Dads are supposed strong and stable family presence, right? That's how my dad seemed when I was growing up, anyway. 

However, upon reflection, I'm actually encouraged to know that I have the muscles to begin with; and, Lord willin', after the soreness subsides they'll rebuild and become stronger.

Saturdays with Simeon

Saturday is a good day for very well established reasons, so I need not explain them. But, Saturday's have just gotten better for me. You see, Sarah has asked if she can go out on Saturday mornings to work out and maybe have breakfast with a friend or two. That, of course, leaves me and Simeon at home, just the two of us.

I may have a difficult time telling you why it was so wonderful, as most of the joys of fatherhood seem very slippery when it comes to writing about them. So, I'll run down our first Saturday morning’s activities, and maybe we can discover what made it so great, together.

• Simeon woke me up gently. Not a cry so much, but a whimper as if to say, “Dad, I’m awake now. Let’s hang out.”
• I held him in front of me and asked him what he was going to have for breakfast, and told him what I was going to have in my best British accent (which mysteriously transitioned into a New Zealand accent) — this coaxed many smiles out of him. One smile alone is enough to make my day.
• He let me eat my breakfast before he started licking his lips.
• I fed him and he looked curiously at me the entire time. He burped well, so no stomach ache.
• I changed his cloth diaper, which makes him bear a striking resemblance to a Sumo wrestler. He stared the ink drawing of a monkey (Sarah's named him Moe) I put next to his changing table.
• Saturday is college football day, so I put him in an IU shirt that our friend John Garrison gave him.
  
• I laid on the floor with him in his little play gym. We played with the dangling rattles and such.
• I noticed how his neck is getting quite strong, so I ran to get his Bumbo (its a little baby chair that allows babies to sit upright)
• Sarah came home and told me you’re not supposed to put babies his age in Bumbos yet. Simeon begged to differ.
• We took him to a focus group about my friend’s baby food enterprise. In the middle of my contribution, Simeon poo’d in the most indiscreet way, and looked darned pleased doing it.
• We took him to the library and the grocery
• He slept the rest of the day

Nothing extraordinary. I just seem to find new ways and reasons to love Simeon everyday — especially Saturdays.

Tom Bodett – He's no George Lopez

Tom Bodett is a real guy.

Through the 80s and 90s I'd always figured that Tom Bodett was a figment of some ad guy's imagination. I'm not altogether sure how, in all my NPR listening, I was lost on the fact that Tom Bodett is a man who lives in Vermont, United States of America, and Alaska before that.  

I've always liked Tom Bodett, the character. As a child, my family sought out Motel 6s (preferably with a pool) like they were Mexican restaurants (my parents are like blood hounds when it comes to sniffing out the nearest mexican restaurant), I always felt a kinship with him. He was just so likable as the "we'll leave the light on for ya" guy, that it made me feel better about staying in a place where the bed spread felt like sleeping with a curtain. 

I found out about Tom Bodett's double-life from a friend, Colin, whom I had only talked to for the first few months of having "known" him.  After we met in person, we were discussing how we had one another pictured based on only knowing one another over email and phone conversations. Colin mentioned that he thought I sounded like Tom Bodett on the phone. I can see how he got that; I do have a very deliberate delivery. Colin also mentioned that Tom Bodett (I can't seem to type only "Tom" or "Bodett" – always "Tom Bodett") has a blog. He might as well have told me that Max Headroom runs a breakdancing clinic in Des Moines.

I was all like, "Woah, woah, woah, Tom Bodett is real?" He was all like, "yeah, and a talented writer, too."

I had to check it out. To my everlasting delight, Tom Bodett's writing and podcasts are completely consistent with the Motel 6 character I've grown to love. He does humor that makes you smile, not belly laugh. I like that.  

I would like to think that Tom Bodett is different than other characters who are based on themselves. For instance, I suspect that when Jerry Seinfeld, Larry David and George Lopez (I've never actually watched the George Lopez Show – not that I'm admitting to, anyway) play "themselves," they're actually playing a caricature of themselves, or someone who shares their name; I don't think that's a stretch. 

It is conceivable that Tom Bodett has created a public character that he maintains through various media, that he's giving people, like me, what they want; but, I don't want to believe that. I choose not to. 

I choose to believe that Tom Bodett, if given the chance, will leave the light on for me.

COTRHPMD

Sundays in the Noel household are a day of rest. Part of our weekly rest exercise is that we don't cook – without a microwave anyway. This means that Sunday is, as Sarah puts it, "clean out the refrigerator hodge podge meal day (COTRHPMD)". COTRHPMD is just as it sounds. All of the food we've accumulated in the previous week(s) or month(s) gets pulled out of the ice box (I'd like to make a motion to re-popularize the word "ice box" in place of refrigerator), and spread out on the counter. You are free to either eat a random collection of foods, or do as Sarah often does, combine different food items into a new never-thought-of-before-and-for-good-reason dish.

We moved COTRHPMD to monday this week because of the long Labour (can we also start putting the "u" back in Labor) Day weekend. We figured that if protestants can move the Sabbath from Saturday to Sunday we should have no trouble moving our own faintly sacred tradition. 

So here's what was on the menu yesterday:

For Ryan:

• A 4-day old frankfurter with ketchup, whole grain mustard and sauerkraut
  
• A ham submarine sandwich donated by our dog-sitter when we went to pick up our dog, Mu Shu. (I'm not sure why she gave it to us. Maybe she's like my great grandmother who would always insist you take a biscuit before you left the house.)
• A salad with all the veggies that are a day or two from being unfit to eat.

For Sarah:

• Gnocchi (a dumpling-like potato pasta) that Sarah made longer ago than I can remember, and has been frozen since then.
  
• Vegetarian breakfast sausage links — she mixed these into her Gnocchi. The thought of this still makes me gag a little bit.
  
• A salad (see salad description above)
  

For Simeon:

• We defrozeified some old breast milk just so he wouldn't feel left out.
  

Oh, and it wouldn't be a real COTHRPMD if after dinner Sarah didn't say, "Ryan, why do you always have your hands down your pants?"

Pride (In the name of Marcus)

I'm so proud. I can hardly stand it.

Sunday, August 24th (one month and one day after Simeon's birthday) my sister gave birth to Marcus Kai Williams. On that day, I found out that there is such thing as love at no sight. I haven't met Marcus, won't meet him until Christmas, but gosh, I love that little boy.

I can't type anymore and expect to keep my eyes dry. So, I'm just gonna stop. But not before I say — I couldn't be more proud.

Two kinds of people

"There's two kinds of people in this world: those who like Neil Diamond, and those who don't. My ex-wife loves him."

– Bob (Bill Murray) explained to Dr. Marvin why his marriage ended in divorce (I just realized that I've referenced What About Bob? twice in my blog's relatively short existence)

I was at an Indianapolis Indians game this past week with a friend and he came seat-hopping down to our spot on the first base line with a beer and tray of nachos in hand. We discovered that we have a shared passion for nachos. 

I said, "have you had the nachos at Old Point Tavern?" 

"Funny you mention it," he went on, "there's two philosophies on how to make nachos." 

My interest was piqued, because he's a chef n'all. "How so?," I hadn't ever given nachos that much thought, I guess. 

He told me that you can make nachos piled "high and deep" (<-- also a What About Bob reference), like they do at Old Point Tavern, or you can spread the chips out flat on a giant plate with cheese spread evenly on top. He explained that the second nacho execution produces a perfect nacho bite – each and every bite. While the "high and deep" method makes quite the visual impression, you're left with "dry" areas deep in the nacho pile.

My wife has often preached the virtues of the "perfect bite." You should watch Sarah eat. She measures and assembles each bite to maximize flavor potential. So, I don't even need to ask which side of the nacho divide Sarah has planted herself. 

She's a proud member of the "out flat" camp.

I had to give it some thought. I'm a visual guy, so the "high and deep" pile is appealing. I can remember being mildly concerned with what I'd do with those dry extra chips at the end, but it had never bothered me that much. But, I could definitely see my friend's point on the "out flat" style. He made a very good case.

I was torn.

In the end, I decided I'm not going to be like Bob and risk my marriage to Sarah just to be a "high and deep person." 

I'm "out flat" and proud.

Taste is a fickle thing

I'm the biggest sucker for list and countdown shows. I must be the prototype for VH1's target market. Man, I can't feel more uncool. When did I stop being in MTV's target market and start being part of VH1's?

The last couple of days I've been kicking around in my head some things that I used to not like, even hate, but now I can't get enough of. So, here it goes:

• Jalapeño peppers – maybe it's just taken me awhile to get over my mom squirting me in the eye with jalapeño juice. (it was an accident, so no need to call Social Services)
• NPR – I'm not exactly sure when I started caring what was going on in the World, but I do now
• Running long distances
• Mushrooms – Shitake, Portobella, Morel — I like them all
• Eggplant – If you don't think you like it, you haven't had it fried
• Reading novels – also sitting still long enough to read on the beach
• Strong coffee – no, very strong coffee
• Adam Vinatieri
• Cole Slaw
• David Bowie – he scared me to death in Labrynth as a kid, but now I love him for his music
• Sauerkraut
• Taking a nap – I used to resent being made to take a nap, and my parents for always having to nap on Sunday afternoons.
• Sushi – admittedly, my first exposure to sushi was at an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet, so there was no chance for me to like it
• Tofu 
• Small dogs – our Shih Tzu, Mu Shu has won me over

What people, place or things did you detest that you now love?

Fishin' and spittin' – something to look forward to

In about a week's time, I will be making my annual trip to Lewis Lake, Somewhere, Kentucky, with some of my best friends. 

Sarah's extended family has created this retreat in the most bucolic (<-- that one's for you Colin) setting one can imagine. Some of the features and amenities that have me aching to get there are:

• A 1 mile road that passes through a tobacco field (where it's not uncommon to see a wild turkey or two), through a creek bed and requires a truck or SUV to navigate
  
• A cabin – a cinder block structure, really) 
• An aluminum boat – complete with a couple wooden oars to navigate the pond for fishing or frog giggin'
• Frog gigs
• A window A/C unit that sounds like a Boeing 747
• A big screen TV that is good for little more than holding your fishing lures and loose change
• A luxury outhouse – also serves as a booby trap for locking unsuspecting pooper in with their own stink
• Corn hole boards – maybe the most essential amenity for our reunion
• A deep fryer – in case we feel so compelled to fry up some of the day's catch
• My friend Cliff brings a hammock – I have every intention to read a book while in that hammock, but the hammock is a natural sedative. I think I read 8 words total last year.
• Two queen sized beds – have I mentioned there are 6 guys going?

That's a lot to look forward to.

Breakfast with Simeon

I sat down at the Noel dairy bar for a day-starting meal – me over some Trader's Point Creamery yogurt and Indiana blueberries, Simeon over Sarah's left breast. To my amazement and surprise, Simeon detached to say, "You know Dad (that's what he calls me), I've had a pretty great first 2.5 weeks of life."

"Yeah, Son? Well, we've sure enjoyed having you around. What's made your first 2.5 weeks so great?," I replied.

The rest of our conversation follows:

Simeon: The hospital was cool, 'cause all these people I didn't know yet, but recognized their voices, came to hang out with us. Some even drove great distances to make me feel welcome. Not only that, but those same people brought gifts, lots of gifts. I especially liked the cookie bouquet that Auntie Jill sent. I'd always heard from you what a magical combo milk and cookies are. But, nothing could prepare me for when mom had one of those sugar cookies, and it filtered to her milk – Yum!  I could eat, like, 5 ounces of milk and cookies if you let me. 

Burp! Excuse me, Mom had cabbage last night.

Anyway, when we got home I was afraid I'd get bored since I had to stay home and allow my immune system to build up for a few days. Bored? Not at all. It was Shark Week! It's never too early for Great White exposure, as far as I'm concerned.

On my sixth day, we went for a walk on the Monon for the first time with Mom, and she let me eat in public for the first time.

Ryan: Yeah, that was my last day of Paternity leave. I thought about how much fun it would be coming home from work to see you and Mom together, but how sad I'd be to leave you in the morning.

Simeon: I was sad to see you leave too. But, Mom has kept me busy so I wouldn't think too much about you leaving.

Ryan: Yeah, I guess your first couple of weeks have been pretty eventful ...

Simeon: Oh, I wasn't finished. I've seen more animals than one can imagine. I went to the Trader's Point Creamery and saw some dairy cows... 

Ryan: Yeah, remember when I told your mom that as productive as she's been, she could earn some extra money up at the Creamery?

Sarah: That's still not funny, Ryan. Stop laughing, Simeon.

Simeon: Anyway, I've been to the Zoo twice. Count 'em – ONE, (he uses his middle finger he doesn't know what it means yet) TWO (he held up 4 fingers – motor skills aren't finely tuned yet). I went to the fair and saw some more animals, some were in cages and others were eating fried Twinkies. I saw the World's Largest Boar who also happened to have the World's Largest Boar Testicles.

Ryan: That's hilarious, you noticed his testicles?

Simeon: How could I not? They were the world's largest.

Ryan: It seems like you've been living pretty large, little man.

Simeon: *rolls his eyes and gets back to his breakfast*

I love poo. Poo loves me. We're a happy family.

It has been over a year and a half since my last poo blog. That is a travesty, if you ask me. I understand that you haven't asked for it, but I just can't resist putting together consonants and vowels to chat about bowels. So, back by unpopular demand ...

Sarah and I went to a class to prepare ourselves for the rigors and joys (more rigors, really) of parenting a newborn. In truth, the only thing I remember about that class was a laminated letter-sized card of poo, a Periodic Poo Table. I was equal parts horrified and intrigued. The chart had pictures, yes pictures, of every stage of poo for the first weeks of life for the newborn. Like Mexican food, it's nearly impossible for poo to look good in a photograph. 

There was only one copy of the Poo Table, so each person got to take gander at the poo gammut, and then pass it on to their neighbor saying, "Take a look at the poo on row 2," or "I found where they compared the size of the poo to a quarter especially helpful," in an attempt to stem the awkwardness.

Currently, I think we're in the honeymoon poo period with Simeon. Thanks to the breast milk he gulps, his poo is virtually odorless. I'm amazed that in spite of eating the exact same thing day in and day out, his poo has evolved.

First, it looked like Bovril®, but with a slightly green tint.

Then it transitioned to looking exactly like whole-grain mustard.

And as of yesterday, I was most surprised at how it so strikingly looked like arugula pesto!

I propose that newborn classes use images of Bovril, whole grain mustard and arugula pesto to prepare parents for poo. It's much more photogenic, and people may actually be able to eat dinner after the class.

Thus concludes the first leg of Simeon's tour de poo. I'll keep you updated, whether you like it or not.