And we’re all sick… December 14, 2008

It all started early on the morning of Dec. 9 — my 30th birthday. We awoke to a screaming baby who seemed to be gasping for air between cries. It was about 6 a.m., and we were freaking out. Emma started to calm down and wasn’t gasping as much, but she also had a pretty terrible cough.

I took her into the bathroom, closed the door, and cranked on the shower to its hottest setting. In no time, with the shower door open, steam began to fill the room and Emma’s breathing got better. A little later, she was smiling, laughing and acting like her normal morning jovial self. But we were still worried. It was 7 a.m. and the doctor’s office didn’t even start answering phones for another 90 minutes.

We called my mom to see what she thought we should do, and within minutes of getting off the phone with her, it rang again. It was Emma’s doctor. (He’s known my mom since they were toddlers.) Dr. Mike listened to her symptoms (as best as we could describe them) and said he didn’t think we needed to bring her in just yet. He said the cough could come back Tuesday night, but as long as she had her appetite and wasn’t laboring to breathe, we were A-OK.

So I dropped Emma at school and asked her teachers to keep an extra watchful eye on her. They reported some general crankiness and a little congestion, but nothing major.

(On a side note, to make matters worse on Tuesday: Someone stole the bike rack off the roof of my car. Talk about a serious bummer…)

On Wednesday, Emma went back to school but wasn’t feeling well so my mom took her home and ultimately to see Dr. Mike, where Ashley met them. She wasn’t presenting any symptoms at the time, but she was given a decongestant in case it got worse.

The next day, Emma went back to school. But by lunch I’d gotten a call from her teachers saying she was running a 101-degree fever and we needed to pick her up immediately.

She took a long nap when we got home, and didn’t seem to bad off, though she still had a fever and congestion. But Thursday night was absolutely terrible. Emma barely slept, which means we barely slept. She would wake herself up coughing and then cry. We’d console her, try to make her more comfortable (feed her, medicate her when need be) and then she’d get back to sleep.

By the time Ashley and I would nod off, then the cycle would repeat itself.

Emma stayed home Friday. I took the morning shift, and then Ashley came home and I went to work in the afternoon. We both felt terrible but chalked it up to our having gotten almost no sleep the night before. But oh how wrong we were.

Emma seems to be reaching the back end of her sickness. She’s still got lots of congestion, but her cough has waned and she’s pretty well back to her perky self. Wish I could say the same for us.

Ashley keeps wandering around the house saying, “I wish I could just freakin’ breathe through my nose, for crying out loud!”

I’ve found that whispering makes my throat hurt less.

It’s strange to think that whatever Emma’s young immune system has battled is so strong that it can get us, too. I said that to a friend at work. She laughed in my face and said she’s never been so sick or ill as many times in her life as she has in the past year-and-a-half of motherhood.

I’m just hoping that within the next couple days I can post a dispatch titled, “And we’re all well again…”

By the way… December 1, 2008

Stay tuned for more photos. We’ve got lots of good stuff we’ll get posted soon.

Lately, Emma has gotten really good at standing up. Sometimes she’ll hesitantly stand all on her own, keeping balance with a hand on something sturdy. Every once in a while she’ll be standing without other support (but she doesn’t realize it). And she’s recently started “border walking,” where she shuffles around the edge of a coffee table or down the length of her crib.

She’s also taken to standing in the corner of her crib closest to the door, where she knows we’ll enter if she screams loud enough.

The Little One also began eating cereal puffs last night. It was really amazing. She seemed to know that she needed to chew. So she used her two front teeth — one on the top, one on the bottom — to crunch up the apple cinnamon bites.

She’s also taken very much to the dogs. Greta still will barely get near her, but Berkeley will let her tug on her ears and jowls. It’s pretty funny.

Ashley tried taking her on a crawling tour of the house last night, but Emma got side-tracked by the basket of board books in Mommy and Daddy’s room, so the tour ended early.

She now laughs when we cover our heads and then peek-a-boo out and likes to pull the cover off our heads to make us say so. Emma’s still getting up for bottles during the night — never more than two. And she’s gotten really good at making it known when she isn’t happy.

In other news, we can’t wait for Emma’s first Christmas!!!

The whole world’s in a little, tiny itsy bitsy smile… March 18, 2008

Tomorrow, our little Emma will be seven weeks old. She’s hitting all the milestones for a youngster her age, but the most revealing is her beautiful smile.

It’s absolutely amazing to see a grin sneak across her face, only to turn into a full-on toothless smile. Can’t wait to hear her start laughing. You’ve seen the videos of her dancing (does she have a stage career in her future?) but she may end up another sort of artist. Another attribute of 6- to 8-week-old children is their newfound ability to focus their eyes. And lemme tell you, Miss Emma loves the art.

She keys in on the bull fighter painting over the sofa, the Moroccan prints above the swing, the colored blocks above her crib, the quasi-Jackson-Pollock-esque painting on top of the dog crate. She also loves lights and fans, and especially the combination of the two.

Today was her first day of “school.” She apparently did a lot of sleeping. MUST. BE. NICE.

Really, though, lately she’s been doing a lot more overnight sleeping. Ashley is still the Trooper of the Year and holds her and bounces her and cuddles her and shooshes her and everything else to get our baby to go back to sleep. But, (knock on wood), it’s not been like it was a few weeks ago where we — O.K., Ashley — was awake more than asleep. (She hates me for my ability to be asleep seconds after my head hits the pillow, and to sleep through anything. It’s a blessing and a curse, really.)

One of these days, hopefully sooner rather than later, I’ll get some more photos and videos posted. We still have lots of good stuff from our trip to Marshall. And we’ll get some shots of our beautiful girl smiling. But tomorrow’s going to be a long day that starts early, so on that note, Goodnight All.

–Papa Josh

If it weren’t for Ashley’s eyes… February 27, 2008

These days, Emma is spending a bit more time with her eyes open. They’re a gorgeous shade of dark blue, they’re intensely alert, and they can make you melt.

She takes after her mother.

Ashley has the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. In fact, if it weren’t for Ashley’s eyes, Emma wouldn’t be here today.

The night we met, Ashley and I were both at a party at which we didn’t particularly want to be. It was a house-warming party for my colleague and her husband, who worked with Ashley’s roommate. The party itself was nice enough, but it was mostly couples and I knew only my co-worker and the friend I brought with me. In fact, I had a date scheduled that night and had planned to make an appearance and head out.

Ashley’s roommate, Laurie, dragged Ashley to the party with the intention of setting her up with some lawyer. She was less than thrilled to be there and staked out a spot in the kitchen, where she didn’t really have to talk to anyone.

The second I walked in the door, I saw her eyes. And I melted. As I recall, I didn’t even bother to say hello to the host and hostess. I headed straight for the kitchen to stake out a spot next to the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes upon.

My friend Mike and I were dressed to the nines. Sweaters, slacks, dress shoes, tortoise-shell-framed glasses. Ashley always quips that it’s the best dressed I’ve ever been. In all honesty, we were dressed as, ahem, metrosexuals. And in retrospect, our duds were far too similar for going to the same place. (In the literary world, this is known as foreshadowing…)

Mike and I made our way to Ashley and introduced ourselves. She was cordial. We all participated in the obligatory small talk. Eventually, Mike got bored, fixed himself a drink and wandered off.

I stayed to chat. We talked politics and other erudite topics. About an hour into our conversation, I excused myself to the restroom, first garnering a promise that she’d be there when I returned. Nature hadn’t called, but I’d scheduled a date for later that evening so I ran upstairs, dialed and left a message saying I was sorry but wouldn’t be making it back for a date that night — or any other night, for that matter.

I returned for more conversing, and since we were the only sober people at the party, I was recruited to drive to the corner store to buy cigarettes for a partygoer. I agreed — as long as Ashley would keep me company. Not that I knew it then, but I wasn’t going to leave her so that lawyer could introduce himself…

Because of the way I was dressed and because of our topics of conversation, and because I arrived with a friend who was also well-dressed, Ashley assumed for the first couple hours that he and I were gay. It’s a funny story, but I have to say I’m glad she made the assumption. It gave her a couple hours with her guard down to get to know me, to let me get my hooks in her.

By the end of the night, Ashley’s roommate was totally trashed. We fastened a grocery bag to her ears for the car ride home. Before Ashley left, I gave her my business card. Wow. What was I thinking? This is one of her favorite parts of the story. Not only did I give her my card, but I gave her my cellphone number, the cell number I’d have a week later (I was switching providers at the time), and at least two e-mail addresses, just in case.

I was leaving no chance that she’d not be able to reach me. And, I got her number, promising to call. She knew it’d be three days before I’d try to contact her. I was soooooo predictable. And when I did make that call, can you believe what she did?!? Sent me to voicemail and sent a text message saying she’d call me tomorrow.

I thought that was it. She hated me. But within a week, we went on a string of casual dates, quickly growing fond of each other. And, of course, it proceeded to get far more serious.

Now, we have the most beautiful baby in the world, and I couldn’t be happier. And it’s all because of Ashley’s beautiful eyes…

Oh, and as a thanks for following us down Memory Lane, here’s a photo of the Lovely Miss Emma…

Part Deux Deux… February 5, 2008

Ashley was a bit frustrated with me this evening. We were giving Emma her first bath at home, and it was a trying experience. Emma cried. No, she wailed, and wailed. And wailed.

Between the crying and Papa trying to do everything, Momma Cash started to cry. But it didn’t last long.

As I held my wet, naked baby against chest (covered by my nice white undershirt), Emma decided to get back at Daddy for making her bathe. We heard an explosion and saw a stinky brown stripe run the length of my shirt that dribbled onto the floor.

Ashley couldn’t help but laugh. Neither could I.

It was the first time I consciously realized the unconditional love parents have for their children.

Who else in this world could shit on your chest and all you can do is laugh?

–Papa Josh

And we thought it was tough coming up with a good name… February 3, 2008

Turns out, we had it easy. There were books upon books (and just as many Web sites) for us to comb for the perfect name. And yes, my first thought was to name her Hattie Mae. I might as well fess up to it because Ashley will never, ever let me live it down. For Ashley, who wanted a nice, strong traditional name, “Hattie” took it a bit too far. According to the Social Security Administration, which began tracking popular names in 1880, Hattie reached its pinnacle that year. Its popularity declined steadily until 1968 — when it fell off the Top 1,000 list.

I don’t know where, exactly, I came up with that name, though I suspect it has lain dormant in my mind since I took the course on William Faulkner at Lyon College during my senior year. (Perhaps if Dr. Tebbetts reads this, he can weigh in. I don’t recall whether a Hattie ever appears in any of Faulkner’s novels.)

The short of it is this: Ashley and I each went through a baby names book and made a list of our favorites. Her list included names such as Kate, Elizabeth, Olivia. Mine had Isis (love me some Dylan), Matilda (so I could call her Mattie — it’s close to Hattie!!!), and Madison (yeah, yeah, yeah…, again, so I could call her Mattie). We played with “Kate” for a while, but both agreed it was a nickname for Katherine or Caitlyn. Emma was on both of our lists. We both liked it and thought it stood well on its own.

But we weren’t the only ones who had to pick a name.

Since Emma is my parents’ first grandchild, they’re undergoing what seems to be a difficult task of picking what they want to be called. Apparently for most Baby Boomers, “Grandpa” and “Grandma” just won’t cut it. That’s especially true for my folks (be sure to read the top end of this blog). Since Pops has long gone by The Dude (see aforementioned entry for the reference), we thought that would make a great grandpa name. But today, I think The Dude, who is Puro San Antonio, settled on Lito, which is short for Abuelito, or grandfather in Spanish. (We had a cat named Gata (Cat in Espanol), and they have a wonderful dog named Chula (Which, at the time, we thought meant “cute” or “little friend,” but in doing fact-checking for this blog, we’ve come to find out it means “pimp, prostitute, cocky or showoff.”….I guess that means the grandparents need to make sure of translations before picking their nicknames.)

My mom hasn’t decided on one yet. We’re threatening to call her BuJu (short for Buddhist Jew) or Bubbe (which she says she just can’t be called because that’s her mother’s (my Bubbe’s)grandmother nickname.) So at the hospital, Mom started Googling searh terms such as “cool grandparent nicknames.” There’s a list here that she used, with names like  Kupuna wahine (Hawaiian for grandmother), and  MaiMai, but she’s yet to make a decision. She better come up with one quickly, or BuJu it is…

Ashley’s parents have it easier. Emma isn’t their first grandchild, so they’ve already got names — Honey and Papaw.

And of course there’s Momma Cash and Papa…

Man, the Big “S” has been good lately… January 28, 2008

I don’t know what it is, but for the last couple of nights, I’ve been sleeping like a rock, or a baby, or a log, or (choose your cliched simile…) Wish I could say the same thing for Ashley, but it’s been getting more and more uncomfortable for her.

Maybe my slumbers have been oh-so-good lately because my sleeping being knows that it’s about to end, that for the ensuing months, I’ll be waking every couple hours to care for Emma. I recently read on the blog of a friend’s friend a story about life post birth. The father in this tale was recounting the horrors of seeing his sleep-deprived face in the mirror. He could hardly believe the face — with bloated bags under the eyes — was his. But perhaps even more to his horror, he found a smudge of grape jelly next to his mouth.

The thing is, he hadn’t had grape jelly for at least four hours.

With all the joy and happiness that is to come, we know that the months ahead will also be filled with lots of nights sans slumber (at least that hearty, snoring-filled sleep that is so amazing).

So maybe these last few nights, my body is merely getting some of what it knows won’t be around for a good while…

– Papa Josh

The cycle of relationships… January 27, 2008

It’s really quite amazing how quickly life can change. Tonight we had our old roommate over (I say “our” because I’d spent so much time at the house on Monroe that I too was Sara’s roomie…) for dinner and TV. It was just like old times on SoCo. I cooked a yummy enchilada bake, cilantro-lime rice and made a salad, and the three of us sat down for the final episode of Chuck and the latest episode of Psych, both of which were a riot.

Tonight was a snapshot of what our life has always been like.

In a couple of days, Ashley and I are going to be parents. We’ll be entering a whole new chapter of our life, one that will change who we’ll forever be. Tuesday night, we’ll be Ashley and Josh, but by the next day, we’ll be a family. We’ll have a little girl completely dependent on us for absolutely everything. We’ll be parents.

I know our life has been changing over the last nine months, and we’ve been preparing for it, but there’s no escaping the reality that Wednesday is a life-changing event. We’ve always been the kids who look to our parents for help and advice, for guidance and love. Even as adults, we have maintained a hierarchical relationship with our parents — ones that won’t ever change.

But for the first time, we’ll begin a relationship that puts us on a side we’ve never experienced. And decades down the road, we will begin another new relationship, one that our parents are now finding themselves on the cusp of having — one with a grandchild.

–Papa Josh

We’re really in the home stretch now… January 25, 2008

In these last few days leading up to the birth of Emma, I find myself in a strange place, my thoughts at odds with each other. It seems as if time is dragging its merry feet, and I wonder if we’re ever going to make it to Jan. 30. But at the same time, I can hardly believe that nine months have passed already. And I’m perplexed how those two thoughts can exist simultaneously. Maybe it’s because I’m exhausted and should be asleep in there next to Momma Cash, because this day seems as if it’s never-ending. (I actually was drifting off to sleep earlier, when my phone exploded next to the bed…a late-night call from an editor asking for one more paragraph that helped paint a broader picture.) Now I’m physically in the same boat as my mind is in — simultaneously exhausted but too revved up from the call to go directly back to bed.

Sitting in the living room of our apartment, I’m finding myself hoping that our daughter will be able to sleep. Her window faces the stairs outside our little abode, and the upstairs neighbors aren’t exactly light on their feet. Sometimes I wonder if they’re seeing just how much noise they can make stomping up the stairs. The rails rattle, the painting on the wall over the sofa follows suit.

If she takes after her mother in the sleep department, Emma’s going to have it rough. But it she takes after Papa, nothing outside her window will cause a stir.

–Papa Josh

Seven days and counting… January 23, 2008

Momma Cash had her second-to-last doctor’s appointment today. She hasn’t dilated at all since her visit a week ago. Sounding somewhat despondent, she reported that Emma won’t be born any sooner than Jan. 30 — a week from today.

Emma is participating in the “Baugh Shuffle,” Ashley says, a dance of one step forward and two steps back.

When Ashley is with the Baugh family, and we collectively decide it’s time to leave the house for dinner, Momma Cash knows she doesn’t actually have to get up from the sofa for a few more minutes. My mom will visit the ladies room one last time. My father will decide to change his shoes, or secure some obscure window. We gather again, get invigorated to leave, and then as we finally get to setting the alarm and heading out, Mom heads off to the head once again and Pops disappears to double-check that obscure window he’d already secured.

Everyone will go out, pile into the car, look around and ask, “Where’s Dad?” A minute later, he exits the house, fixing his collar or tightening a belt.

That is the Baugh Shuffle.

Now, Ashley is convinced our daughter has taken to her Baugh roots, doing her namesake dance, since she seems to be quite content living in Momma’s belly.