fatherhood, week one

who needs tv when you can watch mt. baby erupt from every orifice?


baby nice guy turned one week old yesterday, which was, interestingly enough, her actual due date. thanks for coming early, kid. let's take a look back at your first week on earth, by the numbers:

• number of days on earth: 7
• average number of diapers per day: 12
• number of sleep hours we are averaging per day: me, 3. you, 23.
• number of chins: two, but there was only one when we got you. am thinking about asking for a refund.
• number of times my parents made it abundantly clear that they do not like your name: just once, but it was less than 10 minutes after you were born. thanks for that magic moment, guys.
• number of trips out of the house: about 5, including your first dinner in a restaurant. sushi for your fish-deprived mama.
• number of times strangers have cooed over your sleeping form as i announced proudly to them BEHOLD THE NEW LIFE I HAVE CREATED AND BESTOWED UPON YOUR TINY EARTH. WORSHIP ME, MORTAL: 8
• number of times i have had to restrain myself from throwing you on the grill so i can eat your babylegs, slathered with garlic butter: 52
• number of arguments i have gotten into with mrs nice guy's mother: 1, over how to chop rhubarb. don't ask.
• number of times per day your grandmother asks if you are the cutest baby on earth: 32,645,709,470,970.
• number of trips to the baby vet: 2, the pediatrician gave us an A+ (you also got a nine on your Apgar test. you are smarter than everyone).
• number of times you have crapped while being changed, sending a two-foot arc of yellow custard poo across the changing table, which has been lined with a phillip morris towel: 2. you can do better.
• average number of hiccups after each feeding: 82, who do i write a letter to about stopping this?
• number of baths: 2, which, interestingly, is exactly 2 more than your father has had
• number of times you have chewed your mother's right nipple into hamburger meat: once, but that was enough thanks. that's normally my job.
• number of times i have tried to update this website but failed either because of lack of mental wherewithal, time or because you crapped on something: 617

this list goes on, but i find being a parent has suddenly made me less funny. why is that? i will say this: it has certainly turned me into a big mushy pile of babydrunk dad putty. i will spare you the gruesome details of my utter disintegration as a rational human being. but i will indulge myself as much to tell you i love this child. what will she look like as she grows into her chubby face? what will captivate her attention? would it be illegal to have her dipped in bronze so she never grows?

and when she is older, what will her disposition be? i have this fantasy: she has just graduated from college and moved into her very own place. she is supporting herself for the first time, finally, all grown up. i don't know what she will do for a living and i don't really care. what i do want to know is how she will react when i show up in her bedroom at 4 am one morning, screaming. will she mind? will she sit patiently as i vomit all over her and then methodically urinate on every last stitch of linen she owns? will she?