Baby Daddy

One summer Sunday, I told Tim he was going to be a daddy.  When I managed to convince him it wasn’t a joke (which took some effort), he said, “Woo hoo!” and took me out to eat to celebrate.  He was so happy. 

He came to every single prenatal appointment, and smiled like it was Christmas every time we got to hear the baby’s heartbeat.  When he found out we were having a girl, he bought a cute elephant blanket and matching toy.

Tim choked up a little at our wedding, but I never saw actual tears escape his eyes until he looked out our daughter for the first time.  He said, “You made a beautiful baby,” and didn’t leave her side for hours after they whisked her from the birthing room into the NICU.  He gave Squiggles her first bath, and from the day she was born, he has been heavily involved in her care – changing, bathing, cuddling, rocking, singing, feeding, dressing, educating, reading, playing, and laughing.  It melts my heart every time I hear them laughing or find them asleep together.

I’ve read dozens of studies regarding the the importance of fathers in their childrens’ lives, and I’m so happy that I don’t have a worry in the world in this area – my daughter is absolutely adored by her father, and he would sooner forsake everything else in the world than neglect her for a second.

We have all been incredibly lucky because Tim’s boss let him take Fridays off for the last year, so Friday has been Daddy-Daughter Day.

A couple weeks ago, as Tim was dressing the baby after her bath, I overheard him singing to Squiggles  a song that he was making up as he went along.  He sweetly sang (to the tune of One Enchanted Evening), “One enchanted evening, when you find your true love, I will chase him away with a shotgun, and you will be my girl forever…”

We love you, Tim – happy Father’s Day!

Long Beach

It turns out that Long Island is actually an island that is… well… long.  Meaning, lots of shoreline.  We skipped the touristy big beaches and opted for Long Beach, where we ran into very few other people.

I find the ocean beautiful and breathtaking and such, but unlike the Rocky Mountains, the red-rock desert, Tony Grove, and large portions of Japan, I feel no ownership of the ocean – I know I am visiting somebody else’s briar patch.   I’m a bit nervous about riptides and sharks, and tend to stay close to the shore when swimming.

But… I love it.  I love the sound of the water and the feeling of the sand shifting under my feet with each new wave.  I scan the shore for treasures (pretty rocks or shells), and try to get to them before the next wave buries them again.

Tim enjoys the beach just well enough to humor me when I request a trip.  He burns easily (being Irish and all) and stays covered up for the most part. 

Squiggles had a mixed-emotion day at the beach; laughter, crying, exhilaration, and anger.  We went to the shore last summer, but of course she doesn’t remember that.

She didn’t mind walking on the beach, but hated falling on it.  She absolutely refused to use her hands to get herself back up.

So Tim took pity on her.  She was excited about the water, but a little nervous about going near it.

She decided it was okay, and squealed with hysterical delight if when we swung her over the water or ran along the shore splashing and jumping over the waves.

We tried to help her build a sandcastle, but she was NOT on board with sitting in the sand.  This photo is for Marsha, who has asked me if she ever cries:

Her attitude improved drastically when we sat her on her towel with some snacks.

Overall, a lovely day by the shore.

Petting

The baby and I drove to Long Island this weekend to meet Tim after his conference at Cold Spring Harbor.  Squiggles loves animals (at least in books), so we visited the local petting zoo.  

There were lots of animals to visit, and we got a bucket full of food that proved extremely effective for drawing the animals near.

I have a metal jewelry stand on my dresser that has a couple birds on it.  Every time we walk by, we have to stop and pet the metal birds or Squiggles has a fit.  She loves seeing birds when we go for walks as well, so we were happy to see that there was an aviary at the petting zoo.  They gave us a popsicle stick with birdseed on it to attract the birds.

I think Squiggles was astonished that this was really happening.

In the picture below, she is trying very hard to break the prominently posted “Please don’t touch or squeeze birds” rule.

Tim got the birds to perch right on his hands.  When I was in charge of holding the seed stick, I remembered something that I knew as a child but had since forgotten:  I like admiring birds, and I like the concept of birds, but I do NOT want them touching my person. 

We fed many animals, washed our hands a finity times, and called the day a success.

Of cows and mansions

We have an annual tradition of biking the coast of Newport, Rhode Island (though we didn’t go last year due to our condition of having an infant). Apparently I have been too busy gawking at the ocean to notice the beautiful countryside.   This year we rode slowly, taking in the other beautiful scenes the city has to offer (mostly due to our condition of being (ahem) slightly out-of-shape).

These little guys were severely angered by my existence:

We also rode past some modest homes:

My mother fell in love with the following mansion when we took her on this ride a couple years ago.  I don’t see how it is that much different than the house I grew up in (meaning that it is also white).

We just viewed the mansions from a distance since they have a “No bikes in mansions” policy.  The Breakers:

And… well… we couldn’t help but gawk at Newport’s share of the Atlantic.  It’s kind of pretty.

Yes, this is the best picture I got of us:

We ate at our favorite clam shack (meaning that they let us park our bikes there and eat outside).

At the time, it seemed like a great idea to order lots of fried food.

But we regretted it during the last 15 miles of the ride.