And there was a collective sigh of relief. We finally made home. Can’t say that I was really fond of the hospital, but being that I don’t spend much time with medical personnel, I can’t say what portion was that hospital and what was just hospitals in general. With all due respect to my awesome sister-in-law Sarah who is quite frankly the most fantastic nurse I’ll ever know, I’ve never seen another profession so contradictory of itself than nursing. It seemed during one shift, you might get four different opinions on one subject. “I know a lot of people recommend _____ but I’ve always believed _____” or “My personal opinion is ______” or “My mother just used to _____” or “Monica said that? Nah, just _____.” I guess if there’s four different ways to do something, then you’re less likely to screw it up. It’s better than there being only one correct way and screwing it up four different ways. The nursery staff was phenomenal. If I had to call out a few names, I’d say that Donna Overnight (who reminded me of the magnificent and dearly missed Barbara Myles) was possibly the most helpful. That lady had breastfeeding nailed down like crazy. On an unrelated but not so much note, I was laying shirtless with Ellison because my lovely wife said it was an awesome experience and she was combing through my chest hair looking for a boobie and a nipple. The nipple I can’t get rid of, but the boobie went away when I started running. She started pouting her lips. I gave her the middle knuckle on my index finger instead and she seemed to enjoy it well enough.
La familia finished their duty today at midday with my mother-in-law skipping out. Now it’s just the three (er five, sorry Jackson and Tucker) of us. I’m in the sunroom with the little one in the bassinet listening to some Earth Wind and Fire. My lovely wife is getting some much needed rest. The dogs are just like they always are…like Dave Matthews: under the table dreaming.
I gotta say that Ellison is clearly the most beautiful thing in the world. She really is. I just marvel at having one of my own. Like they’re truly untouched, pure and sometimes incredibly unimpressed. Ellison seems to enjoy my humming. I pull from a whole arsenal of material. Sometimes, within a given session, I can go from Star Wars themes, “Hey Jude,” “Battle Hymn of the Republic,” “Silver Bells,” Duke Ellington, Sly and Family Stone and Simon and Garfunkel. Everything sounds like a lullaby if you hum it in a low register. Ellison seems to think so. Other than that, I’m kinda the bad guy. I wake her up for feeding, burp her afterwards, check the diaper, undress her, dress her, wake her up again, wipe her bottom with cold wipes. Mom’s the hero. She gives her the boobie. I’m more like a zookeeper. But I hum and I have a musical catalog that rivals what most computers can achieve. And my nursery rhymes were written by KRS-One. Don’t front.
It’s a crude comparison, but Ellison’s kinda like a new car. Every mile on that car you put on it. If it doesn’t work right, it’s your fault. You should’ve taken better care of it. Every dent, every ding, every rattle, every chip in the windshield and every missing nut or cap you’re responsible for. Parenthood’s not an easy job. It’s not an easy world to navigate through.
How do you teach love in a world so vengeful. How do you explain war and terrorism as well as forgiveness. How do you teach compassion and patience in a world that’s so hellbent on getting mine and the pursuit of material gain? How do you teach respectfulness and boundaries in a world of that’s so inappropriate and morally negligent? How do you teach staying true to yourself when morals and principles are traded for wealth? How do you each humility in a world of such extravagance and excess? How do you teach the rules when no one follows them? I guess they never said it’d be easy.
On the car ride home, I looked around as I drove and thought about what a cynical and confusing world we live in and, now, I’m expected to teach this little one all about it. If I don’t, the world will. I used to enjoy the early morning runs because it was like you got the world for what it was without the effects of humanity upon it. The serenity. The peacefulness. I want that same peace and serenity for little Ellison, but know it’s unlikely. I want her to know what’s good in the world. I want her to know what’s good in people. I want her to walk through the world knowing what love accomplishes. I don’t want her to live in fear or cynicism. I don’t want her to live in confusion or sadness.
Geez, this is just day four. And in just four days, this little kiddo’s already picked up “westside” hand signals. That or “W” for Wyrick.
They sure do move fast these days. Can’t imagine what she’ll be picking up on day fourteen. Maybe she’ll be whistling Eric Dolphy solos. Doctor said that she has perfect hearing. Who knows?
My lovely wife just told me that eight wet diapers a day and a daily stool is a good measure of a working system. Still waiting on that hardcore stool. We had one yesterday, but since nothing. She’s like her papa. When she travels, she can’t deuce. If I have a run-in with a godzilla poo, anyone want pics? People seem so starved for photos, I’ll be happy to provide that one.