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There comes a moment in every action film where the protagonist realizes that they are truly over matched. At about five this morning, my sweet daughter Madeleine made it clear who was in charge.
The two of us went head to head in a legendary contest of wills.
The veteran (daddy) barely conscious – was still trying to bob and weave while the young challenger peppered PaPa with an intricate series of stunning jabs and explosive roundhouses.
The shift in the balance of power seems subtle at first, until I realize that the challenger has studied the film and knows all of my best tricks.
Madeleine unleashed just a small sample of her rage and power from 4am to 7am and I stand humbled before it.
Gina’s grandparents, Gary and Denise noted that Madeleine possessed a powerful cocktail of Gina’s obstinate nature and my hyperactivity. With the contest of wills this morning, I realize that Maddie is just getting warmed up.
This provides an enhanced understanding of Roy Scheider’s famous quote from the movie Jaws, “We’re gonna need a bigger boat!” He makes this observation as he watches the giant menacing dorsal fin bear down upon him and Captain Quint’s boat.
Turns out Roy was right – Jaws ate the damned boat and the captain!
When I ask Maddie if I’m next, she just smiles and smacks her lips.
Perhaps one of the sweeter babies on the planet morphs into a White Walker around midnight. I really hope this is a trend that will continue for months on end.
My angelic cherub charms all are who in her path.
The smile, the gurgle – oh, she’s so sweet.
But then the witching hour strikes – and the CHANGE IS NOT SUBTLE!!
The apple of my eye starts swinging for the fences.
We have pondered calling in her Uncle Jim (AKA the Baby Whisperer) but we’re still holding out.
Last night was night numero uno away from the hospital and Maddie had something special for Daddy. Catastrophic temper tantrums that would make any drunken sailor blush.
With the feeding over at midnight, I opened my Daddy’s bag o’ tricks.
12:04 — Walking briskly around the house gave Maddie the action she was looking for at first. But then I sensed a disturbance in the force – she gave me the look that asked, “Do you fear the White Walker, Daddy?” I summoned what courage I could muster, and managed to squeak out – “Daddy fears nothing!” Then a macabre smile crossed her face as if to say, “YOU WILL!”
With that the gentle crying began (HAAAAA- if you consider hurricanes to be a gentle breeze!) Madeleine was rocking and rolling and there was no place to hide.
Diaper looks good – CHECK!
Swaddled tightly – CHECK!
It’s quiet – CHECK!
She’s been fed – CHECK!
12:22 – Daddy’s Got Talent
For my first act, I croon, Fly Me to the Moon, by Sinatra – Maddie is briefly entertained – but then she gets pissed again.
1236 – Simon and Garfunkle sing along
“I have my books and poetry to protect me.”
But Daddy, there’s no place to hide!
1244 – Simon & Garfunkle II
“Let us be lovers, we’ll marry our fortunes together”
Dad, you suck!!
Gut-wrenching temper tantrum revving up now.
But wait, the crash of thunder!!
Angry baby finds comfort in flashes of lightning and claps of thunder.
Success – I’m the smartest father alive.
Break out the Metallica please:
“Hush little baby, don’t say a word” She passes out within 30 seconds. Different strokes I suppose.
Storm is over — the Walker has returned.
Seeming fueled by the early violent weather, she takes a turn for the worse and unleashes the fury.
Wake up Gina for the feeding and talk badly about the baby. Is this really only Day Three??????
Content Warning: My flowing prose and rapier wit has been dented as we crawl into Day 3.
Maddie began the war dance last night.
She deviously spaced out her sleep terrorism tactics into about 60 to 90 minute intervals. I’m hoping that she takes pity and doesn’t start water-boarding us again tonight.
Gina says she never been so sleep-depleted. Sometime around 4am – I tied my sleeplessness record from freshman year in college that took place some time during the Bronze Age.
In front of the grandparents – Maddie is all butterscotch and ponies – during the night, she morphs into Cerberus – the three headed creature that guards the entrance to Hades, tearing limbs asunder and taking no prisoners.
We’ve also discovered that this young lady considers the diaper change to be a personal effrontery of biblical proportions.
At around 2am – I conjured up the spirit of the younger and more talented Kevin Costner – and taught my daughter the Tatonka tribal dance. This is similar to (but not to be confused with) Katy Perry’s I’m drunker than Kesha and can not recall my Friday night whereabouts dance. Too many slizzers I guess, but I digress.
Madeleine and I begin our faux-Sioux dance while I chanted in broken Jim Morrison lyrics – all the while injecting the word TATONKA! For some reason, this puts Maddie to sleep time after time!
Thank you again Mr. Costner! “You’re welcome, Meat,” says Crash.
Breastfeeding can be troublesome for some newborns – not this girl.
This young lady loves da boob!
Gina and I swayed with trepidation as Maddy eyed the prize for the first time. Would she be able to engage?
Remember young Skywalker trying to blow up the Death Star? “Stay on target” “Stay on target!” Well the force is strong with my daughter.
Maddy lit it up on her first run and her mom’s eyes went wide.
“Whoa,” gasped Gina – “Save some for later, take human slurps!”
Make no mistake, this Munchkin loves to eat.
She’s like Will Ferrell in Old School, “It just tastes so good once it hits your lips.”
Everybody’s doing it!!
After a good burping, Maddy slept on my chest for about an hour.
This prompted the Meet the Fockers thought, “I have nipples Greg, can you milk me?”
Weighing in at 7 pounds, 14 ounces and 20 inches long, the little girl made her smashing debut on the banks of the Hudson River. Gina was brave beyond measure and I am in awe of her.
Water broken, but our little princess is surely taking her time. Contractions firing on all cylinders. Cue Ridin’ by Chamillionaire because Mom needs a little perscription. Dang, I done spilled my drink!
Pregnant Women are Strong – Here Honey squeeze my hand – Whoops – crush injury – Reconstructive hand surgery scheduled for shortly after we deliver the baby. Staff says I may lose the arm from elbow down. Damn this war!
Cue Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd – Time for the Epidural – ahhhhh, that’s what I’m talking about – even better than box wine!
Cue Danger Zone, Top Gun theme – Gina dons oxygen mask looking like Tom Cruise (I will not leave my wingman) and requests that the baby buzz the tower – STILL no joy – but the mask makes a true fashion statement.
Gina is 10 cm now – starting to get restless until I pull out the US weekly – please everyone, pray for my girl Jay-Lo!
Not going anywhere for a while… Using Almond Joys to bait the child out of hiding
Gina asked what the market was doing. I told her it was getting creamed. Then she asked me what sectors were under-performing. Ummmmmmm?