Biting the bullet...

Another day in America. Another needless tragedy at the hands of a gunman.

And although it's "people who kill people" and not their weapon of choice, I haven't heard of any knifing or stoning epidemics occuring in our nation. At least not for the last couple centuries or so.

Even then, no knife or stone would take out a couple dozen innocent children in a matter of minutes, at the hands of one person.

In a perfect world, humans would learn to use its words when faced with conflict. In a better world, in times when a violent act seems somehow justifiable in our minds, we can concurrently reason with ourselves to at least use non-lethal means to achieve the act. In a somewhat functional world, an emphasis on catering to one's mental health will take precedence over all else.

But, sadly, we live in none of the above. Therefore, to search for a resolution aimed to achieve any of that - at least at this time in our history - is unrealistic.

Therefore, in lieu of suggesting the complete elimination of firearms, which would fall upon deaf ears (and, ironically, probably lead to a violent citizen uprising), I'd like to propose a common-sense compromise. It may seem simplistic in nature, but sometimes in life, efficiency is effective. Work smarter, not harder, right?

What I'm about to propose will save thousands of lives every year and instantly reform a nation that has an incredibly disturbing, insatiable appetite for lethal weapons, one which dwarfs any other civilized country on the planet:

- Mandatory minimum two week waiting period on all firearm purchases, during which time a background check is conducted. Have you ever been pissed and someone or something, thought irrational thoughts, then had some time to cool down and ultimately saw things more clearly again? Of course you have.

- Mandatory gun safety and responsibility course to be completed (and perhaps they already have this to obtain a license. But if they don't, that baffles me. One needs to take driver's ed for a driver's license, and those are only used for weapons a small percentage of the time, whereas a gun's sole purpose is to be a weapon. It's not a very practical paper weight.).

- Ban all automatic weapons. For those pro-NRA, pro-2nd ammendment fanatics who are opposed to this, please tell me why. If it's simply to provide equal footing for every citizen, where is the line drawn? Grenades? WMDs? When can we eliminate the need for the upper hand? And for the hunters out there, taking down a buck with an oozie doesn't seem very sporting.

Will this stop all of these horrific acts we're forced to see on the news from happening? Not at all, just like driver's education courses don't weed out every terrible driver who puts others on the road at risk. (Trust me - I've lived in New Jersey and Florida for most of my life, so I've rolled the dice most times I pull out of my driveway). Will it save many? Or even one, without threatening the security of anyone else? I don't see how it couldn't.

Three simple rules and thousands of lives spared. Tens of thousands of others spared the trauma and tragedy. So many others with a peace of mind which dissipates a little more every time we check the news and see the vicious cycle start over again, negating the opportunity for those who perished needlessly to at least serve as benchmark for the continued evolution of humanity.

But until that happens, it'll just be another day in America, where we pride ourselves on being a standard-bearing society and somehow eat the bullshit we manufacture with no hesitation...

Things I've learned/things I hope to teach...

Things I’ve learned from my seven-month-old daughter:

-          Once the crying is done, waste no time becoming happy again.

-          It’s okay to be vulnerable and dependent around the ones who love you. Everyone can use a pick-me-up, be it literal or figurative.

-          Smiles are contagious.

-          It’s actually possible to make exercising fun. Especially if there’s a jumper or something else bouncy involved.

 

-      In fact, pretty much everything that moves or makes a noise can be amusing.

 

-          As long as there’s food, shelter, love, and I’m not sitting in crap, life is good and not much else matters.

-          You can fight it all you want, but sometimes a nap can make all the difference in a day.

-          And, when all else fails, just hit the bottle.

Things I hope my seven-month-old daughter will learn from me:

-          You can never give or receive too many kisses and hugs.

-          Between 8:00-9:00 p.m. is bedtime. Resistance is futile.

-          If you’d like to negotiate this, you must first stay in bed until at least 7:00 a.m. Preferably later.

-          I am the only man you are ever allowed to flirt with.

-          It’s nice to have stuff, but it’s nicer to have love.

 

      (As it shows, I'm learning more from her than she is from me at this point. And I'm perfectly fine with that.)

Hurry up and slow down!

As I introduce Kya to people, especially other parents, I typically hear two things: "She looks just like you," and "This time goes by quickly." The first was probably obvious to everyone who's met her except, until recently, me, as I apparently have a terribly inaccurate perception of myself.

The second seems obvious, too - and yet it's not. I'll explain.

In the past five-plus months, I've seen such a seemingly gradual transformation in Kya, like a seed sprouting into a beautiful flower. Physically, I see features in her that seem to project the future; I look in her eyes, and I can already envision a little girl, not just a baby. She has a personality - a happy, content, playful one - that I dearly hope she keeps. And she has me wrapped around her little finger a little tighter every day.

All that in five months. I've begun to embrace the routine of watching her evolve a little more all the time, of caring for her, anticipating that open mouthed smile when she wakes up, doing every goofy thing possible to elicit that hearty laugh of hers, feeling complete when she melts into my chest as she falls asleep, watching her and not wanting to leave when I put her to bed.

Times like those, I wish time would stop. But it doesn't.

Meanwhile, I can't wait for the next phase in my own life. When I finally land the career and permanently part ways with stupid jobs. When we move out of our house and find our home, wherever that might be. When we can finally exhale and not have to continuously crane our necks to peek around the corner to see what challenge we have to face next. When we can stop feeling like we have to hurry up just to wait.

This past week was definitely one of those instances where I would have gladly skipped the journey to get right to the destination. For months, my sister and I have been planning a trip down to South Florida to have our respective babies meet our 95 year-old grandmother for the first time. The same person who, a year earlier, had no great-grandchildren and now has four (talk about something worth waiting for). Her caravan consisted of her daughter, husband, and our mother. Mine was Kya, Missy, Jenna and her friend Alex so she wouldn't get too stir crazy on a trip which consisted of enough crazy as it was.

The trip started off with a 4:00 a.m. wakeup to get on a 6:00 flight to Fort Lauderdale. Perhaps if it was a 3:55 alarm instead, we would have made the flight. Instead the gate closed as we approached it. Plan B was to fly into Fort Myers and then subsequently drive across the state in the peripheral of a tropical storm as our only chance to still arrive that day. And so we did.

But simply seeing Great-Grandma wasn't nearly the only thing on the agenda. We were taking Jenna to see colleges (with her own major life transition just a year away), as well as see her boyfriend, who is a new freshman at Barry University, seeing my cousin Meri and her son (Great-Grandchild #2 of 4), and some old college friends of mine. Four days, a couple thousand miles of flying, and another 500-plus miles of driving. With an infant. And a moody teenager. And extended time with my sister and mother.

I guess this is what it means when they talk about needing a vacation from your vacation!

Worse yet, I swear that in the midst of all that driving, we would hit most every red light there was. And perhaps it was simply because we just wanted to get to the next destination, but I'm telling you, those were some of the longest freaking lights. Ever.

Hurry up and wait.

But to see the eyes of the youngest person in my life lock with those of the oldest, to see the look of joy in my grandmother, for her to realize that making it this far in life, with all of the stop lights and detours and stormy weather, rewarded her in witnessing yet another life to carry on her treasured legacy, one named after a son whose own life ended far too soon...the destination was worth the tumultuous journey.

And naturally, on the commute back home, when we learned our lesson and arrived at the airport with plenty of time to catch this plane, it gets delayed, and we ultimately returned home after 2:00 a.m.

So that was this past week. Labor Day Weekend hasn't been nearly as laborious as that was. Instead, this will be my last weekend of my own summer of transformation. Beginning next week, I will teach, which I've done occassionally for much of the past decade, but never primarily. It will be as an adjunct at a couple local colleges, so this too, like this period in Kya's life, will be temporary, with something else lurking around the corner for me.

But I will spend at least the next three-and-a-half months devoted to writing and inspiring - hopefully for the students as well as myself. I will stop rushing to get through the next light, or get on that next flight - at least for the time being. I will attempt to live in the present, avert my eyes from the rearview mirror, and resist temptation to look too far down the road - in this case, 2013, when a new journey could very well be mapped out.

And, instead of hurry up and wait, I'll get to hurry up and simply slow down and just enjoy the drive.

Believing in believing

Everything happens for a reason. Everything.

Believing that just may be the secret to living a fulfilled life. Not necessarily knowing what the reasons are, but knowing there is a reason. Not necessarily knowing who or what the reasons are – like an identifiable higher power – but just knowing that there are reasons and accepting that. And accepting responsibility that my actions and thoughts affect what happens, both positively and negatively.

It’s amazing to me how fear can influence beliefs. Religion is the ideal example, but let's even take it on a much more micro level...

For decades, people drank sink water and were fine. Then, I get introduced to filtered water and learn how much healthier that can be for me, and how tap water had all these chemicals in it and how dangerous it is. Well, I’ve drank it for most of my life, as has every other person I know and have yet to hear about a death or debilitating disease caused by drinking tap water. Yet, even though I have thousands of gallons of tap water which have passed through my system over the years in my life, every time I don’t have access to filtered water, there is now a mini bit of hesitation that sets in for me when tap water is my only option to drink, like a brief moment of contemplation that, wait, could this glass of tap water that I’m about to drink at this very moment cause me significant damage?

And I’ll ponder this potential dilemma for a brief period. And this process plays out constantly, whether it be tap water or carrying more than three ounces of shampoo through airport security, in all likelihood, insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

The problem may be that we change our beliefs. We start believing the "hype." Or we simply stop believing. In life, in ourselves, in others. Even though I can consciously realize that simply convincing myself to believe in something will make it actually happen – or at the very least, realize that not believing definitely WILL NOT make it happen, there is something inside of me that holds me back from continuing to believe at all times. I feel I have to try and do internal research to find compelling arguments as to why it’s logical that believing will actually make things happen.

But when things do happen which I don't want, I also have an incredibly difficult time getting over it. I get stuck in the same negative loop and can’t break out of it. Apparently, it can be physiologically explained – according to the book "Change Your Brain, Change Your Life," the cingulate area of my brain, when it’s affected in some way, can cause that type of thinking.  If a situation doesn’t go according to plan, I’ll stew over it even though there is absolutely nothing I can do about it after the fact. Then I make the situation even worse because of that.

Lately, I've been struggling to unstick myself from the negative loop of concerns that pervade my cingulate area, mainly career and finances. And today, after another "thanks but no thanks" letter, it could be very easy to fall deeper into the vortex. Or I can believe that it wasn't the right opportunity (which it wasn't) and that the right one still exists and is will reveal itself at some point (which it will).

And the simple act of believing this - truly believing it - gets me through another day and keeps me looking forward to what's in store tomorrow.

I was just thinking...a lot...

Today, I felt like I did something very dad-like: I went into Target in my pajamas - midday on a Wednesday, no less - to pick up baby formula. There was a time not long ago that my image-conscious mentality would not allow me to do such a thing. And it may not seem like a big deal, but for me, it felt like another step to being comfortable with where I am in life. So there.

And now that I've let it be known, I'll move on to the next thought encompassing my mind - which is how to manage all the thoughts encompassing my mind!

The thoughts that run through my head lately remind me of when I used to be a waiter. I’d take one order, then another, and then take another table, and another, and before you know it, I’m confusing my orders. Do I know who to go to next, or where I just was?

(Needless to say, I was not a very good waiter. For the reasons mentioned as well as the fact that I could never figure out how to do that balancing trick with the plates all on one arm. I may as well have been walking a tight rope with people's dishes!)

And my own thoughts feel that way, too: I’ll start with one thought that seems to guide its way, and then I’ll meander onto another thought that branched off from the previous one and leave that one unresolved. Then I’ll eventually have two incomplete thoughts and wander onto a third and forget what the original thought was.

Textbook, ADD, right?

But it always seems to be at its worst when I'm flooded with a bunch of tasks to accomplish and, regardless of how much I plan, or plan to plan, something always seems to fall by the wayside. And, just like how I could never balance more than a couple meals on my arm, it's equally as difficult for me to balance to-do lists.

Writing this at least takes a plate away.

(Wait...what was I talking about?)

Change is a good thing.

It's what I keep telling myself. Change is a good thing. Change is good, whether it is anticipated for months and dreamed of for years like with Kya, or just anticipated for months and feared for years like a career transition resulting in a major financial setback.

Both changes are being faced at the same time. And the challenges of both changes are what will make the journey and accomplishments of both that much more gratifying.

With Kya, it's a constant trial and error thus far. And most assuredly, will continue to be. I will learn, eventually, how much time I have to get up and make her bottle in the morning before she goes from mildly irritable to utterly inconsolable (thinking probably three). Or how many times she'll laugh at my silly-ass noises and faces before she grows bored of it (guessing about a dozen). But in the end, I'll figure it out. And it'll totally be worth it when I can either make her happy that much sooner or keep her happy that much longer.

With my other change, I'm going from five years of irrelevance to who-knows-how-long of no freaking idea yet. And, like with my daughter, it's taken multiple times to figure out what decisions to make, where to look, who to speak with, what to write, what to finish that I started years ago, when to give up on ideas I cooked up years ago, and so on...and it will most likely take multiple more attempts until I get it right.

And it'll be totally worth it when I can be content with my life that much sooner and stay content for that much longer.

Admittedly, my one change has encompassed so much real estate in my head lately, that it's impeded on my time to write about my other change in this fashion. But it's also made me realize that the one change is equally as critical in dictating my present and future.

So therefore, a third change: the focus of this blog, to incorporate everything in my crazy world and my constant attempts to learn how much time or how many times I need to figure the important shit out.

Enjoy the journey with me...

Random Kya Observations (Part One)

Random observations I've had during my daughter's first 79 days (Part One):

- I'm pretty certain that her bodily fluids consist primarily of urine and saliva, mainly saliva. She drools more than my labrador.

- Speaking of bodily functions, she humbles me with farts. How many and how loud. Once they begin to smell, I won't be nearly as amused, however.

- Amazed how much a baby can transform between the first six weeks or so and the next six weeks - in all facets. Physically, she barely looks the same, and she's formed a personality to the point where she's most certainly gone from "the baby" to "Kya."

- Even more amazed by that personality. At a time in my life when it seems all areas of life have found a way to bog me down and stress me out, she is actually not one of them! I'm not sure I've ever met someone - baby, adult, or in between - that is so laid back, content, and unphased by most things around her. I'm raising a stoner baby!

- Enjoying the progress of our unspoken communication. Reminds me a bit of Dances With Wolves. I pretty much have the signals down now for "feed me" and "hold me."

- Also enjoying the spoken communication. The first time it seemed she even slightly mimicked something I did, I felt similar to how I presume Edison or Bell felt during a successful phase of their own discoveries.

- However, unlike the former two, "change me" is more of a (reluctant) feel test.

- On that note, it astounds me at times what can come out of this girl when all she drinks is formula.

- And who figures out what to put in formula? My sister is convinced we spike ours with sedatives because of how she passes out right after each feeding. I call it her "formula coma."

- For the last couple weeks now, I've played the role of Mr. Mom, as Missy went back to work. You'd think for someone who sleeps more than she's awake, doesn't talk, and can't move around, it wouldn't be too time consuming. Even now, I'm not sure what exactly takes up most of the time - perhaps just the anticipation of caring for a need. All I know is that it's not as glamorous as Michael Keaton made it out to be.

- That said, it's far more rewarding than I thought it would be. Normally, I'd have to hear about second-hand highlights instead of witnessing landmarks firsthand. Like being the first to make her laugh.

- Didn't realize how addicting that laugh would be, as well as her cooing and the way she molds into me when I hold her or let her rest on my chest. It's as if I'm desperate to get a "fix" when I continue to do whatever I did to get her to do those things.

- More things I didn't expect: That I'd resort to making the "baby noises" and goofball faces that I always made fun of others for doing. However, if that's what's going to make her coo and laugh, I'm all in.

- Always realized the following: how much more I'd admire my wife by how she cares for - cares about - our girl.

- Even more impressed by witnessing those same characteristics from my stepdaughter Jenna. She's made this transition infinitely easier for us all.

 - What's also impressive is how she's able to bring us all closer together, providing us a shared hobby, if you will. Missy and Jenna hate sports, I'm not fond of most reality shows or cooking recipes, but if the topic is Kya, we're always on the same page.

- I'm even impressed with myself. For the first couple weeks, I held her as if she was radioactive. There's definitely a comfort zone now with not just her, but other babies as well.

- I'll be away for business-type stuff starting tomorrow for eight days and I'm already anticipating how much I'm going to miss her. Thank goodness for modern technology.

- Speaking of, I've taken more photos in the past three months than I've taken in perhaps the previous three years combined.

- I've realized these photos are a cheap but foolproof way to stock up on Facebook "likes."

- Somehow, her existence seems to make others see me in a more positive light. She's like the the ultimate wingman!

- And somehow her existence keeps me focused on overcoming every tough obstacle in my way and ensuring that the hardships of life will never again have the upperhand on me. She's like the ultimate anti-depressant!

From Mother's Day to the Mother of All Days

This entry's theme: Transitions.

Today was Kya's first Mother's Day. And, apparently, she didn't forget to provide a gift: Last night, she slept uninterrupted though the night for the first time! Eight hours! Especially miraculous considering she never slept more than five straight hours before that. We're keeping our fingers crossed that this will remain a trend.

Because if it does, life gets easier for us, at least in the mental functioning capacity. I'm pretty sure I've builty an immunity to caffeine in only two months.

The day was also special for me. It was my mother's first Mother's Day as a grandmother - and she got to spend it with her mother, both her children, and - new to this year's edition - her two granddaughters.

Life has not been very easy for my mom in recent years. She's sacrificed life as she knew it to care for my grandmother, who is in advanced stages of dementia, for close to a decade until, after the latest frightening fall and subsequent trip to the hospital, finally came to terms that it was not fair for either of them for her to serve as the primary caretaker.

She entered a senior care facility last fall, and then another one a couple months later right down the road from my mom. Since then, she still receives daily visits from her for hours on end. Some days, she remembers her, some days she doesn't. Sadly, she hasn't recalled me for years now. And this is someone who was incredibly aware of her surroundings, extremely intuitive.

Both my sister and I are thankful that both our grandmothers were still around to witness their first great grandchildren. For our "Mom-Mom," she's gotten the chance to meet them in person, though each time they visit, it's like the first time for her again. My paternal grandmother, all of 95 years young and still, thankfully, sharp as a tack, gets weekly updates and pictures mailed to her by my mom to see their constant evolution from 1000 miles away. We both plan a visit down to Florida later this year to get all four of her great grandchildren together (all born within a year of each other), flanking the true matriarch of our family.

But back to my mom. Since the birth of her two grandchildren, I've seen a transformation. I've seen a sense of peace, after years of stress. She has truly embraced grandmotherhood. Regardless of our own parent-child trials and tribulations we've had in the past, that's exactly where it lies now. It's not about us anymore. There's a new generation to tend to. And it's brought us all closer together in ways I couldn't have imagined.

Missy even jokes that her relationship with my mother - which had its share of friction in the beginning - is probably better than mine, thanks in no small part to the bonding they've done together with Kya.

Okay, she's probably not joking.

And although it's not about the prior generations anymore when the newest generation arrives, I've realized that it still needs to be about me to some degree in order for me to be there for my child. It's the old phrase, "You're no good to anyone if you're no good to yourself." Therefore, there are certain aspects of my life that I need to focus on to ensure that I'm the best possible father: My health - mentally and physically, my career, and my family's financial well-being come to mind most. So I need to get my shit together.

I'm calling it being "selflessly selfish." And this rings more true in the coming weeks than ever before.

See, today was Mother's Day, but tomorrow might be even bigger. Missy goes back to work and I assume most of her daytime responsibilities. Yes, I'm going to be a Mr. Mom. Like Mr. Dad wasn't hard enough! It's going to be a tough transition for both of us. I can't emphasize what an incredible job she's done with Kya and what a bond they've created already in such a short period of time and I know the time away from her is going to extremely difficult.

For me, my balancing act has been a struggle even before throwing another ball into the air. Which means now more than ever, I can't neglect my own needs as well. For example, I haven't exercised since my daughter was born. I've been eating like crap. I haven't written a blog (since now) in nearly two weeks.

I'm no good to Kya if I'm no good to myself. If for no other reason than the necessity to lead by example.

So the Mother of All Days was today. But also tomorrow in a way, when another transition - one of many which have occurred already and many, many more which will occur in the future - takes place.

Most of these transitions have proven to be quite successful thus far: My grandmother's transition to a place where she can be cared for properly. My mother's transition to refound independence, from caring for her mother to embracing her new grandchildren and repairing her relationship with her own children.

And just like the nine months of bone-chilling fear and overanalyzing that took place leading up to the birth of my child, I'm pretty sure things will all work out in the end.

Just like with my mom.

Time flies when you're not as young.

Today's cliche that fits: Perception is reality.

It's been six weeks since Kya entered the world in grand fashion. For me, it's flown by. Yet the transformation which has taken place with her during that time is astounding. All I know is that life seems to have shifted into ludicrous speed and, besides acknowledging that my "2:30 feeling" seems to last all day and that the only period of lucidity I seem to have is in the middle of the night as I wait for her to awake (hence me being able to seemlessly use words like "lucidity" at 5:00 in the morning), I haven't had time to ponder much else.

Meanwhile, six weeks for Kya is literally a lifetime. It's been an eternity of infinite bottle feedings and changings and being passed along like a communal joint to endless family members and friends of family members and friends of those friends. I can only imagine how frustrating it must be to try and get us, her parents, to decipher what a particular cry is intended for, or if her grunts this time are attributed to the effort it takes to lift her bobbley-head, or if it's just another case of hardcore gas (she's her parents' daughter in that regard).

I would love to be able to read her mind every time she coos about, or stares at, nothing in particular. I want to be able to provide whatever she needs when she cries but refuses the bottle (on the very rare occasion) and still has a dry diaper. I'd pay to be able to see the world through her eyes right now. We all have at one point, of course, but those memories have long since faded.

And perhaps for a reason. Maybe it's an overwhelming thing to be overstimulated by so many new experiences. Maybe it's utterly exhausting to go through so many physical changes in such a short period of time.

All I know is that times like these, at crazy hours of the night when I finally have time to reflect on how different my life is compared to six weeks ago, it helps to put time into perspective. And it's refreshing when that time, as ludicrously fast as it's flown by lately, is spent watching a life gradually evolve before my eyes. Especially in times when I feel like my own is stuck in neutral.

The birds sing at night

At night, there are birds that still sing around my house. It can be 10 p.m. but in my backyard, it'll look and sound as if it was shortly before dawn.

Lately, I've been thinking about how symbolic this is regarding the current state of my life.

Shortly over a month ago, my life completely changed. Since then, I've struggled to function on a very minimal amount of sleep, shifted my priorities to focus on the needs of my newborn child, and attempted to make the transition not nearly as overwhelming for Missy.

And yet, the other night, I walked into the living room and watched my daughter lay sleeping on the stomach of my sleeping wife. Suddenly, all of those aforementioned issues seemed to melt away.

Since Kya's birth, I've felt increasingly weighted down by the financial burdens, too. This past week was especially stressful, as we received the damages from both the hospital (and just think if Kya was actually born there!) as well as our tax returns. I've attempted to revise our budget expenses, which is nearly impossible to predict with Missy currently not working, me on straight commission, and a child who seems to regularly consume her weight in formula. Each day, the mountain of debt continues to grow.

And yet, yesterday, I made Kya coo and smile at me. Suddenly, the price of my debt seemed worth every penny.

As I continue to embrace this new phase of life which has granted me a new life to look out for, searching for daylight seems to be a daunting task at times. Yet, just when things seem to be at its darkest, I see the beauty in the little things, like watching a mother and daughter form a bond early on, or learning what it takes to make a baby smile.

And just then, the birds begin to sing again.

“Let Her Cry” or “Rescue Me From These Tears?”

To explain my title, one is a Hootie and the Blowfish song. The other one I have no idea, but doesn’t it sound like it could be lyrics to some cheesy rock ballad? Maybe it is. I’ll have to Google that later.

But the title has a purpose, a theme if you will, to our first dilemma as parents of a three-week old who has begun to catch on that, if she cries, Mommy and Daddy immediately approach and try to do something about it.

What that’s resulted in is us attempting to fulfill her wants as well as her needs. The first couple weeks, she was on a pretty consistent three hour feeding schedule, but now she’ll occasionally cry for a bottle at the two-and-a-half hour mark. At least, I’m guessing she’s crying for that. She latches on for dear life and subsequently downs the bottle at a pace that would have humbled me even back in my college glory days.

Then again, I was never really good at chugging. Perhaps that explains my affinity toward hoity-toity sipping-type drinks.

Be that as it may, I’m trying to look at this scientifically: If she consumes the same amount of formula at the same intervals and moves around a similar amount of times every day, shouldn’t she digest at the same pace and thus be hungry around the same time every day too? Isn’t that how it works for most human beings? Or are babies exempt from this theory?

Anyhow, my theory is that although she may want to have the formula earlier (I don’t know why – it looks absolutely disgusting but hey, different strokes for different folks), she doesn’t need it. And she’s not going to starve if we politely decline her request at the two-and-a-half hour mark as opposed to three. Or need to be changed any more often (since, you know, the whole digesting at the same pace hypothesis I posed earlier).

Is that heartless? Or understandable? I absolutely despise hearing her cry and love when I’m able to do something as simple as feed her to put her at ease, but, over the past couple days, we’ve found ourselves being kept up later and waking up more, thus turning the two of us into walking zombies the following day.

I think we’ve been too quick to jump the gun the moment we hear a whimper, leading to a lot of holding her to prevent said whimper from returning.  But that has proven to be really freaking exhausting.

And yes, I understand that "needing to be held" is an expression that does, indeed, have the word "need" in it, I believe it does evolve into a "want" after a certain point.

One of Missy’s sisters suggested letting her cry longer. And that make sense as the clear-cut way to restore routine as well as our sanity.

But I also realize it will be easier said than done, the moment I see those cute little lips quiver and try to restrain myself from getting up.

(Oh, and in case you were wondering: ) https://www.google.com/#hl=en&sugexp=frgbld&gs_nf=1&tok=kv2FTGFyFAtHykTp5SfpMQ&pq=%E2%80%9Crescue%20you%20me%20from%20these%20tears%3F%E2%80%9D&cp=28&gs_id=3b&xhr=t&q=%22Rescue%20me%20from%20these%20tears%22&pf=p&sclient=psy-ab&oq=%22Rescue+me+from+these+tears%22&aq=f&aqi=&aql=&gs_l=&pbx=1&bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.r_qf.,cf.osb&fp=21ba5269d78bca91&biw=1249&bih=548

The blink of an eye...

Life changes in the blink of an eye. Yes, it's cliche. And cheesy. And true.

Exactly two weeks ago, my daughter made her entrance into this world in grand fashion: in the back of a speeding ambulance. For the next two days in the hospital, it was hard to take my eyes off of my greatest creation. One need not be religious or spiritual to still appreciate the miracle of life.

I was especially in awe of her delicacies. Her soft skin, her fragile frame, her tiny little fingers and toes. I half-expected her to come out in a box entitled: "Handle With Care."

Two weeks is not a very long time in the grand scheme of things. It's like a figurative blink of an eye in my life. Hell, I have tasks on my to-do lists that have lingered for months. But for Kya, it is a lifetime. It's all she knows. And in that half month, I've personally witnessed an incredible transformation in her. Her face and frame have become fuller. Her eyes have begun to focus on things - including me - and stay open for longer periods.

I've even learned how she communicates, through three cries: Feed Me, Change Me, Hold Me. To know that I have a one in three chance of always satisfying her needs is quite reassuring - never have my odds been that good with another female.

And every time my eyes close and open again, it's as if there's yet another evolution taking place within her. Every experience for her is novel and groundbreaking. And every time I lay witness to it, I feel the same way.

Tonight, I decided to take the night shift and give Missy the night off. It gave me a chance to slow down her evolution before my very eyes. It also gave me a chance to appreciate the speed of my own life. As a child, it felt like it took forever to turn 18. Now 18 is almost forever ago.

One day, Kya will be 18. And I'll feel like it happened in the blink of an eye.

Makes me not want to close them. Which, at least for tonight, I won't.