Virgil

It’s now been two weeks we’ve been home with Matthew. Two weeks only? My God it feels like several months. I’m not sure I even remember what life was like before him.

As you can see I’ve not been on the internet as much. I’ve probably been on a fraction of what I used to. We do put him to bed at eight, and that would theoretically give me the rest of the evening, but frankly I’m tired. I’ve been falling asleep not much after myself. This is a lot more work than I thought. I guess I shouldn’t complain since I’m at work most of the day during the week and the poor wife has it all day long. But of the two weeks, the first required I either drive for the carpool a couple of times and on my own the rest, so I wound up driving all week, and the second week required an overnight business trip, which meant flying out very early the first morning, working late that day, working the next morning, and arriving back home late that night. Driving all week really tires me; I have an hour commute each way, and that’s on top of a nine hour work day. And that night of the return flight, there were thunderstorms and wound up delaying the flight deep into the night. And on top of all that, I still hadn’t recovered from cold I picked up in Kazakhstan. I felt run down. Yeah, I know: I’m whining.

The thing is Matthew is heavy. Geez, holding him for a quarter of an hour straight a few times during the evening adds up. It’s building my upper body and arms, but they are getting fatigued. The problem is he refuses to sit still. He either has to be scooting along the ground on his own or I have to hold and walk him about. Occasionally he’ll stay quietly in his play pen, but that’s not the norm. I don’t mind him exploring about, but he eventually gets himself into trouble and I have to lift him up and carry him back. One day I decided to walk him around the block. Boy did I regret that. I did not realize how far around the block was holding a 25 pound boy. He loved it, but it knocked me out for the rest of the night. If he’s not exploring or being walked about, he’ll whine and eventually cry. And his cries can be loud. You would think he’s being physically hurt. No, it’s just him manipulating us, smart little bugger. And so he gets his way and gets picked up or let free. Have we spoiled him? I guess, but I don’t know what we could have done differently.

Matthew looks like he’s developing well. We haven’t gotten to a pediatrician yet. The nearest appointment was three weeks from when we got back with this particular pediatrician, so it’s next week. She specializes in adopted babies; actually she’s known as “the orphan doctor” and has been featured in many articles and magazines. I was surprised to find she’s actually got a Wikipedia entry: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jane_Aronson. Her office is not exactly convenient to us, but we wanted an adoption specialist to assess Matthew before we go to a local pediatrician. Living in New York City does has its benefits, and we have specialists for everything. Being the engineer, I’ve been trying to chart Matthew’s growth myself. His weight is about the same as at the orphanage but he’s thinned out and lengthened. Frankly he was overweight at the orphanage. He did not get much exercise there and he loves to eat. He now looks much more proportional, though I don’t think he will be as big as I originally thought. He’s about average size based on the growth charts.

I guess I’ve gotten the hang of changing diapers. He even cooperates now, especially if you give him an object to hold as you clean and change him. If you don’t give him an object, the little devil now goes for his little peepee. LOL! He discovered it and now is very conscious of it and I guess it’s a nice little object to play with. We’ve also gotten used to baths. He seems to like them now, even though I surprise him every so often with a burst from the shower head, and shampoo running down his face. Mean old daddy loves to surprise him. He likes the splashing and the bath toys.

From his last feeding, which is around seven PM to his bedtime, it’s father and son play time. This is my favorite. We go to his room and put on some of his baby music and we sit on the floor and play, either with his toys, his blocks, or just watching him stand himself up, clinging to the knobs of his dresser and lifting himself up like a rock climber. He’ll do that over a dozen times. I really enjoy him climbing over me. He’ll make his round the room rounds and come across my stretched out body and he’ll pull himself up and flop his belly on top of mine. Or he’ll climb on to my chest, crawl face to face and drool on me. He’s like a Lilliputian to my Gulliver, or, perhaps more accurately because he grabs my skin more than my clothing, a baby ape to his parent. I love making him smile or giggle, either by making a funny face or doing some weird out of rhythm dance to his baby music. When he smiles his face is like a butterfly spreading open its beautiful wings. I can’t wait until he understands jokes because I love to tease and he’s going to get a lot of laughs.

So here are a few pictures. A wailing Matthew:


And a few father and son playing in his room:






And just plain father and son: