The Burt Squirt on the Diaper Deck, which, incidentally, was invented by his grandfather. Because the Squirt's daddy inevitably had a blowout whenever they were out, and in those days there were no such things as infant changing tables. A true family legacy.

I’ve mentioned it before, but it bears repeating that for my first Mother’s Day, the Burt Squirt gave me eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.  Mr. Burt gave me the day off from diaper duty.  And a new coffeemaker.  All such thoughtful mommy gifts that it’s impossible to say which is the best.

Yesterday was Mr. Burt’s first Father’s Day.

He got a shirt that didn’t fit.

He volunteered to change two diapers.  Both turned out to be horrendously poopy.

Three times he picked up the Burt Squirt and became the target of projectile spit-ups of atomic proportions.

Apart from sounding like the “The Twelve Days of Father’s Day,” this must be proof of something.

Is it that I’m the Burt Squirt’s favorite?  Or does he realize, even at this tender age, the wisdom in not biting the breast that feeds him? Maybe it’s just one more example of the gender disparity inherent in Hallmark holidays.

One thing I’m sure of:  I wouldn’t have had as good an attitude as Mr. Burt if any of these misfortunes had befallen me on Mother’s Day.  He takes the bad parts of parenting in stride, without losing his smile or getting annoyed at the Burt Squirt.  Because he knows that in life, crap happens.  Literally.  And you’ve just got to clean it up and move on without letting yourself get mired in it.

This from the man who swore, before the Squirt was born, that he’d never be able to change a poopy diaper without throwing up.

So Happy Father’s Day to my better half.  I learn more from you about how to be a great parent than I could get any parenting book.  Especially since I don’t have time to read parenting books.

And Liam may only be three months old, but with you for his example, he’s well on his way to being a great dad someday, too.

And, as the poops of the fathers are visited upon the sons, you’ll be vindicated on a future Father’s Day.  What better present is there than that?

The Burt Squirt isn’t great at naps.

That’s not a complaint!  He’s great at sleeping.  At night.  Typically from around 10:30 till 8ish the next morning.  Without waking up for a feeding.

(He first did this on Mother’s Day — best present ever! — when he was just a little over two months old, and has kept it up ever since.  But I really shouldn’t brag, lest A) I incur hatred from other parents and B) jinx myself.)

So, to reiterate:  the Burt Squirt isn’t great at naps, but I’m not complaining because I get a lot more sleep every night than a lot of people who don’t have kids.

It’s not that he doesn’t nap at all; it’s just that he doesn’t nap for several long stretches a day, like all the baby books say babies his age should do.

(Though how is he supposed to do what baby books say?  He can’t read.  He can only learn by example.

His example, apparently, is our cat.)

Again, I’m not complaining!

Much.

Okay…I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think life would be perfect if I had a little more time for housekeeping.  On the plus side, I’m learning the art of efficiency.

However, as good as I’m getting at cramming a lot into a very little span of time, I find myself doing anything possible to make those naptimes, when they do happen, last as long as possible.

Today, that meant using my food processor in the upstairs guest bathroom.

(Next naptime will see me cleaning said bathroom so my in-laws won’t have to perform their daily ablutions amidst the remnants of minced garlic and onion.)

Such great lengths to maintain a quiet napping environment, and the Burt Squirt still woke up before I could finish slicing and dicing.

Thank goodness for friends who come over to entertain wide-awake babies so Mommies can put together from-scratch lasagnas.

You wouldn’t think it would take me a month to post about the most important event of my life to date.  Then again, the sort of event that qualifies as the most important one of my life to date isn’t exactly conducive to having the time to write the sort of blog post that does it justice, so maybe you would think it would take me a month.  Of course, it only took me a few days to post pics to Facebook, so maybe this is just yet another of those cases where Facebook has ruined my ability to blog.  Seeing as there are all of ten of you who actually follow my blog and you’re all on Facebook, there’s probably very little point to posting now.  But A) it seems wrong not to mention the birth of my first baby on my blog and B) even though there are captions on my Facebook pics, they don’t convey my point of view.  Not that I’m likely conveying much through these sleep-deprived words.   But anyway, here goes…

All through my pregnancy, I watched TLC’s A Baby Story religiously. All five times a day it airs. Then I called it preparation for childbirth. Now, twenty-nine days after giving birth, I’m still watching it, only I call it all I do is nurse my baby every 2-3 hours, what else am I supposed to do? comparing notes.  Herein follows my baby story:  Read the rest of this entry »