Week 5: Personality

The age of cute uselessness is over. In its place, a grand, magnificent, person's personality has arisen. Before now, the way I would describe Charlie could be applied to any living creature with a reasonable amount of cells. Now, he is indeed a human being not just in form but in action.

This week, the first communication not related to a need. No, these squeaks coming from his little cords and the spark in his eyes had nothing to do with hunger or discomfort. The child just wanted to give his first shout out.

I wish like hell he could remember these moments in later years, to recall what he was trying to say, to translate in adult words his young wishes, his first claim to his own humanity.

Month One Verdict: Completely Healthy

We took Charlie for his one month check-up last week. In the doctor's words: "Keep doing whatever you're doing: he's doing great!" I knew that my unorthodox regimen of raw meat and push-ups would be good for the lad. Just a joke, now: he's happy chowing down on Similac, that foul-smelling concoction that makes him oh so happy.

In one month, he's put on two pounds and gained two inches. Go on, admit that you just thought "maybe he'll be a basketball player!" I know I did. Bird. McHale. Russell. Pierce. Leary. Oh yes, I like that a lot.

Charliepics: Daddy's Little Rocketship

Finally! Some pics that acknowledge my existence as Charlie's Dad!

Week Four: Noise

Charlie has done an admirable job of expressing himself though his limited means. Where he once cried the same way to acknowledge physical discomfort, a loaded diaper, hunger pangs, or the brooding sense that the universe is a vast, meaningless void (despite the message thanking heaven for little boys emblazoned on his pillow), he has now developed a range.

When we remove his soiled linens, he no longer cries at the feeling of exposure, but instead grunts very subtly, a quiet complaint. With the onset of hunger, ever present, comes not a simple cry, but an operatic burst that must be giving Pavarotti pleasure to watch from his new vantage point (again assuming that the heaven pillow advertises accurately).

It's not all sadness. In playful times, he makes a noise that is close to a cluck, a very silly expression of the silliness around him, the goofy voices, the tickling fingers, the offering of a nose to be grabbed. He also yearns; upon hearing the voices of Gram and Papa through the phone last night, he did not cry as he reached for them with his hands and mouth, but called out with a content and patient hum.

When he sleeps, silence. The only noise then is my most powerful statement, in whisper form: I love you, Charlie.

Family Dinner for Six, No Smoking Please

Three weeks having passed since Charlie was born, our lives are slowly returning to normalcy. On Friday we had our first dinner out with all of us together. I'm sure we turn a few heads when we walk into Macaroni Grill as people try to figure out who is with who. We never care, though--we all love being together, and having Charlie has only added to this. It was great to go out together as a family. "Table for six" has a lovely ring to it.

Going clockwise from Charlie, say hi to Stephan, Dija, me, Lisa, and Brandon. The picture works better in small, as zooming in reveals a number of closed eyes, not to mention that Charlie is all but obscured by his blanket. Also bad that night was my roasted garlic cream sauce on my rigatoni, but that's for another forum to gripe about.

Goodbye to Gram and Papa

My parents are heading out today. Since Charlie's birth three weeks and two days ago (!!), one or both of my parents have been here. Lisa, the kids, and I have enjoyed sharing in Charlie's first weeks with two people who are, with no surprise to me, turning out to be the greatest of grandparents. Charlie will surely miss Papa's soothing touch and Gram's soothing voice. I know I will too, but I'm already looking forward to the next get-together.

Incidentally, today is Charlie's original due date. I can't imagine what the last 23 days would have been like. We're already received his insurance card and his social security card, he's had his doctor's appointments, he's been to restaurants all over the North Shore, and he's been an active participant on Earth. Plus, I'm sure Lisa's equally happy to have him on the outside as the weather has turned hot.

Week 3: Hard Hats or Symphony Orchestra?

I've been taken this week by the number of people predicting Charlie's career path and hobbies based on his body movements. I got into it as well, transfixed by his hands as he lays outside in his mobile crib. He has an inquisitive and seeming playful face as he flexes his hands and fingers. I'm not sure he's yet realized that those fingers and their intricate movements are under his control, or are even his. Yet it's with no problems that I see him with a little tux, conducting Boston Pops through a Fourth of July performance. Others, in seeing this, bring up jazz player, or writer, or other noble career.

What if his hand movements mean nothing to what he will be? Or, alternatively, what if they actually do connect to who he will become, but rather than cultural icon or artistic genius, he's a construction worker, or a banker, or one of those innumerable jobs so many of us don't plan on, but fall into? I can't believe I'm already pushing him in certain directions before his eyes have even declared their final color.

Then again, what else is a parent supposed to do? I know a number of activities and interests I have now resulted from my parents pushing me to try things that I otherwise wouldn't have. But is this too early?

Reality check: I need to lighten up. He's doing what he should be doing, we're doing what we should be doing, and the days of him reaching at nothing and us filling it with something are simply wonderful.

Charliepics: Random Summer Snaps

Today is Friday, marking the end of my time at home with Charlie, Lisa, and the family. Back to work next week. I hope I don't miss out on too much of the random stuff that happens during the day, like how he looks as he feeds, the new noises, his ability to squirm and twist like he's possessed, or everything else that comes with life.

Charlie's first bling: an engraved gift from his aunt. It says Jason.
I enjoy every single part of this picture. I don't remember the context, and I'm glad, because it gives this pose an unknown story.
A tad overdressed, especially while lying on a comforter.
As my dad says, "These are the only legs in the world skinnier than mine."
The rest of Charlie's body on a perfect summer day.
In his aunt's arms. Happy boy.

Week Two: The Art of Lifetime

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of Similac: Charlie's first Fourth of July has passed. Sis-boom-bah. I had thoughts of doing something momentous for the new boy, something memorable. I then thought back to my first Independence Day, and of course couldn't remember it. For that matter, I don't recall one in particular as my first. Fireworks at Holmes Lake in Lincoln, Nebraska comes to mind. I need to be cautious of making an event out of every part of his life. I was just reading a book my close friend Will left me, The Conquest of Happiness by Bertrand Russell. In the book, Russell comments how every great novel has boring parts; same with great lives.

I completely agree, as must anyone who ever took the time with every page of Moby-Dick, or Brothers Karamazov, or The Bible, or who has spent a lot of time with a grandparent, or an unusually driven friend. It's the lulls that give the spikes their interest. If I put too much into each part of his life, the ability for the wondrous is overshadowed by artificial weights.

Our close close friends Liz and Rudy had us over for the Fourth. Charlie didn't seem to mind one bit.

Charliepics: First Bath

Let the mob dissolve--new pictures, finally! These are a few from his second week of life. Let's start with the first bath.

Ahhh, restful sleep. I hope no one decides to bother me.

Ahhh! I'm under siege and naked! It must be time for my first full bath!

Face says: I am utterly traumatized

Two minutes later, face says: I would never tell my family this, but I feel pretty good.

Mob Prevention: New Pictures Coming As Soon As I Get My Camera Back From Rudy's House

Eeks. Easy, people, easy. Let's remain calm, cool, collected, and (sound of footsteps running to get my camera to upload pictures before there's a mass freakout from family and friends)

Nomenclature Redux

Steve, one of my oldest friends, made me smile with this piece from a recent note: "I was also reading Charlie's blog (I hope that's alright that I call him Charlie) and it occured to me that I don't know your middle name. Would you care to enlighten me, because it's gonna bug me until you do."

On the latter point, I am Jason Peter Leary. We knew we didn't want him to be a junior; we never discussed why but we both felt that way, but perhaps it was so he could be his own person right away. When Lisa came upon Charles, it felt right for a few reasons. I mentioned how my father was touched by our naming Charlie after his middle name, but that doesn't capture the strength of the emotions.

That single gesture created a bond between grandparent and grandchild even before birth. I know this because the Peter of my name was my grandfather's middle name, and that's a connection I have always cherished. It's the perfect connection for a grandparent: quiet and subtle, like receiving some secret gum or some quarters for video games or an ice cream between two scofflaws, something that the parents don't know about and shouldn't. This is nice.

More on the name: my parents decided they would call him J. Grandparents come with certain privileges, and special names fit that bill. I actually call him Jason sometimes because I don't want that to be so foreign for him. I also don't want this child having 55 names. Then again, what's the harm in 55 names if that means 55 special relationships with positive people?

The Thrill of Routine

Charlie is 11 days old now. It'll be cliche to write something like "I can't believe how fast the time is going," so let me put it a different way: The earth is clearly closer to the sun now, as a day could not possibly still be 24 hours, so fast are the pages of my calendar flying off. (Please fill in something better, if you will...that line was as weak as this coffee that is barely sustaining my life at this moment.)

So yes, some things are going very fast, and this has to be an outcome of his routine. 97 people (or so) have told me that babies "eat, sleep, and poop--that's it!" That is true if you're a person who views her career as "drive, type, cash" or a marriage as "ring, food, couch." I cannot fathom looking at Charlie's first couple of weeks of outside life as just a few items, especially those so low on Maslow's hierarchy.



Where the eat/sleep/poop circle of life is something I embrace is as a routine. He eats at set times. He sleeps at set times. He poops unpredictably, but we check him at set times. He's in a structure. When I wake him up for his 2:30 a.m. feeding, he's smacking his mouth and nibbling on his finger just then. When he wakes at 9:00 p.m., we're prepared because he's decided that this is his time to check out the local scene.

Why this is a thrill is because he has set his own parameters for the standard stuff so I can be ready for the new discoveries each day is bringing. By knowing when my focus is on basic needs, I am extra attentive for the times in between. Three days ago I made him smile with a fake sneeze, and he still recognizes that as something positive. He hushes from fussy moments almost immediately when Lisa embraces him on her chest with some silly talk. His siblings all have their gibberish phrases for him, and he responds in unique ways. These are part of his routine as well--his response gives us reason to repeat the behavior, to celebrate his seeming happiness.

Tomorrow, he may cry for a bottle unexpectedly at 11:00 a.m., or wake at 2:00 p.m. Then, caught off guard, I may miss a new movement his eye makes, or some new sound, or a new way he reaches for my finger with his hand. But then he'll do it the next time, when a new routine begins and I finally notice something he's done three times for the first time. The enjoyment is in those moments. The excitement is waiting for them, with a smile and an ever-expanding heart.

Traditions

Independence Day: Charlie's first holiday. (Major holiday, anyway. The calendar page on his birthday mentioned it being a Quebecois holiday for some saint. I need to check that out.) I'm more conscious than ever of traditions. I come from a home without many--that's not a bad thing necessarily, but it's not typical. Growing up this way also makes me aware that traditions don't just happen--they are something to be created and nurtured.

Lisa, on the other hand, brings to our equation many Trinidadian traditions. Charlie had his first bath yesterday, nine days after his birth. Then again, Lisa is far from a typical Trini (not there really is a typical one, just like there's not a typical American, just a stereotypical), so her traditions and beliefs are as unique as mine, not based as much on ancestry or belief as independent choice.

Where Charlie will fall in all this will be a wonder to watch. We want him to choose his way in life, and again, that is as much a tradition as going to the Esplanade on July 4 to see the show and hear the Boston Pops. It's this, more than changing diapers and midnight feeds, that constitutes parenting.

Nomenclature

Jason Charles Leary. The Jason is from me. The Leary is from my ancestors. The Charles comes from my Dad, Michael Charles Leary. His Charles comes from his uncle, known as Chick. The name came from a couple of months of discussion. When we hit upon this, we knew it was right. Lisa gets credit for the Jason and the Charles. I, passively, donated the final name. When we let my Dad know, he was touched and overjoyed. One of the best decisions I've ever made.

He will be Jason out in the world, and he will be J when he is with his grandparents, but inside our home, he'll be Charlie. This happened mostly as a result of an Internet video making the viral circuit just as we named him. Enjoy:
Charlie Bit Me! And That Really Hurt...

Week 1: Wondrous Reality

It's Tuesday, July 1. Charlie is now one week old as he enters the next month. I am trying hard to keep track of the hundreds of joys I'm experiencing. Seeing his eyes change colors by the day. Observing my hands do a better job each time I change his diaper or put on new clothes. Appreciating Lisa every time I see her interact with Charlie, and appreciating her more when I take a step back and look at this complete, spectacular life we teamed up to make but for which she did the heavy lifting. Laughing as he holds his hands up like he's being robbed as he eats. Staring at newly working eyes that stare back, not so much at me but at a world of angels and happiness that must only be known to infants. He reaches out with those long articulate fingers, and I sit in hopes that whatever he sees reaches back.