3 months old

Apparently winter came and went.

Max just had his 3-month birthday. As of this writing, here's a summary of our accomplishments.


1) Max is still alive. Given the parents' incompetence and his 2:30 AM crying fits, this is a significant accomplishment.

2) Delia is still alive.

3) Max is much bigger. I look at his height and weight charts, and he really isn't that far off average, but for some reason he seems to be bigger than any of the other babies around here. Delia goes to a weekly mom's group meeting held by a nurse, and everyone puts their baby on a scale seeing if baby added a few ounces. Then Max comes in. The nurse calls him "the fat one" and puts his big butt on the scale. He usually gains anywhere from half a pound to a pound. His appetite has been ridiculous - he'll feed fully and get hungry again in an hour.

4) Max is a different baby now, and his changes are amazing. Sometimes it feels like he goes to sleep and wakes up with a software upgrade.

I won't bore you with the milestones he's supposed to hit, but I will say this: When we say he hits his milestone depends a lot on how alert the we are in catching the behavior, and also how, I guess, generous we are in saying he hit the milestone. And I think I'm a pretty generous grader.

The reason is I believe Max's actions are a lot less random than they look. Some time ago, when we put toys near Max's arms, his arms would move around wildly. Dan (Delia's brother) thought his arm movements were random, and to show this, he took a toy away and watched Max's arms. Max still flailed around (Dan was right) but started crying (Hmmmm...) So the next day, we put the toy up and Max's arms flailed around again. But we moved the toy this time and noticed his arm movements recentering themselves around the toy. Then, amazingly, one of us noticed him grabbing the toy. This is the Max equivalent of me grabbing a fly in midair with chopsticks. A few weeks later, the toys bring out well-positioned swipes.

So with that in mind, here are some other random movements we've noticed in the last few days:

I wanted Max to laugh (the baby book says he should have a laugh around now), so when he was smiling, I told him a humorous antecdote of Kafka and Gandhi discussing struggle. Max didn't respond very well (perhaps I didn't describe the insect succinctly) so I decided to make some fart noises with my lips. No, I did not include a video. So Max's mouth opened into a wide smile and he started making sounds like he was breathing hard: Hehhhh......Hehhhhh...Hehhhhh....Delia thinks it was a laugh. I think it probably was too, but it was very cute anyway.

Max likes to kick out with his legs when he's sitting. So I held him under his arms and lifted him to standing. When I do this, he likes to push down on his legs. Now for a while he cried when I did this, but about a week ago he started loving it. Then, a couple days later, while I did this, he lifted up his left leg. Then he gently put it down in front of his right leg. What...? Then Max lifted up his right leg and put it in front of his left, the whole time with a huge grin.

Just a second, buddy! He can't even push from his tummy yet. But I looked up this behavior and found it was a reflex - some babies have it at birth. Reflex or not, I took this kid out on the town last night (mom was sick) and before I knew it, Max was on a table trying to walk while throngs of women were adoring him.

5) It's never too early to get embarrassing photos of Max! We will need them when we meet Max's first girlfriend. Umm, Max, will you ever let us see who you're dating? Please? Max?

Embarrassing photo #1: Max in blue Panda Bear outfit. Note to Max: I would never, never, never, have put this on you. I was not around when this tragedy happened. There was no male in the room to protect you. But the photo is still useful nonetheless.

Embarrassing photo #2: Max's mullet.

Finally, it's April 5 and I finally finished his 3-month old thing. We've been much busier than we planned. Maybe we'll talk about this later.

Jay Cutler Face

Max impersonating Bronco Quarterback Jay Cutler.

Max is becoming more fun to be around - when he's happy he'll smile at everyone he sees - and he communicates better (or maybe we listen better) so we can differentiate between his moods. And when we do something wrong - feed him when he wants a diaper change, put him to bed when he wants to play - he gives us Jay Cutler Face.

Some background here: Jay Cutler is the quarterback for my hometown football team, the Denver Broncos. (Note to Romanian readers: This is American football, not the strange one where you bounce balls on your head.) Jay Cutler wants to be traded, and he wants every media outlet that exists to know. Perhaps you've read the story in Romania. He has said he felt betrayed after learning his coach discussed trading him, and was not happy when the coach said no one is untradeable. So, to summarize, he wants a trade because he's afraid he'll be traded. If that logic isn't watertight enough, we'll go further. He's afraid that his coach will blindside him with a trade that will send him packing to another city. However, the football team that will acquire his services will have to give the Broncos their own players, thereby blindsiding these players in a trade that will send them packing to Denver. Apparently Jay Cutler will then will trust his new team more than his current one.

Back to Max: Every day gives us plenty of opportunities to photograph Max's Jay Cutler face. But why is his face cut off in the headline photo? The answer is that Jay Cutler face is harder to capture than the Yeti.

He was not happy when we put him to bed last night - he rarely is - which gives us plenty of opportunities to capture Jay Cutler face. But here's how a few of them turned out:

3 failed attempts to capture Jay Cutler face.

To me, he looks more like he's about to be sucked into a flying saucer. Where did his fussiness go? That's when I tried pointing the camera at me and activating it. At this moment, a brilliant high-wattage orange spotlight shot from the camera, temporarily hypnotizing me. I think it's some red eye reduction thingie. Now I know why I can't get Jay Cutler Face on camera, and for that matter, why I can't get any expression except a "What the @#$ is that light?" look.

BTW, in all fairness to Max, he is now adorable as much as he is angry. Here's a photo I just shot as I'm typing the blog. I even captured a smile. Let's see Jay Cutler try this face!

Max was in the middle of a very difficult thumb sucking attempt. His right arm wasn't cooperating, so he used his left hand to force his right hand in his mouth. Smiling was accomplished by rubbing his head.

Max is awake on a hike!

Max as seen by Todd while hiking.

Delia and I have been able to hike almost every week - it's nice to have a hobby that Max didn't interrupt. However, I was always a bit disappointed that Max slept through his hikes. He's missing out on such good scenery...

Max in typical hike pose.

Then, one magical hike near Bridgeport (reputed to be the longest single-span wooden covered bridge in the United States) Max woke up!


And quickly degenerated.

Nothing soothed the kid. I spent the last hour of the hike carrying him on his side (it was the only position out of the 112 I tried that worked), singing "Sounds of Silence" while his back was completely arched backwards so his dinner-plate-sized eyes could be overloaded with images.




The coda to this hike was I got the worst neck kink in my life. I spent the next day on the couch frozen and staring up at the ceiling.

BTW, I finally started uploading photos. On the left side of the blog, look at "MAX PHOTOS" and click on the links below. I'm too lazy to organize them by theme so they're grouped by the month they were taken. Continuing with the laziness theme, I also didn't label any of them. Feel free to make up whatever story you wish about them.

The diaper service war

This man better get his new diapers.

Since Max's last encounter with Louisa, he's put himself on a sumo-wrestler diet. It's had repercussions.

First, he's on Zantac twice a day. I was a little disturbed by this. However, babies apparently have more trouble with acid reflux, and it probably doesn't help that Max fills himself up, I believe, to his gullet, on every feeding, which is very often. We all noticed Max becoming happier after Zantac was brought into his life, but this certainly doesn't include the administration of said drug. During a moment when Max and Mommy are looking at each other, I put a plastic syringe in his mouth filled 0.3 ml of pink liquid that, at best, tastes like Robitussin. Then the syringe is inserted quickly in his mouth and squirted, which is where the fog of war begins. If Max is fast enough, he wrenches his head out of the way and the Zantac streams down his cheek. Smart move - I'd rather give him too little than too much, so he avoids most of the pain. If he's not fast enough, he gets the full dosage and we watch helplessly (okay, helplessly isn't the right term - we did this to him) as he glares at me and makes angry sounds as if, umm, he was forced to take medicine. We follow this up quickly with feeding to minimize whatever permanent emotional scarring we are giving him.

Max before and after Zantac. Delia gave him the Zantac while I took the photo. Max glares at Delia for a long time after the Zantac administration, clearly navigating the icy waters of revenge.
Max pondering judgement.

Second, we use a diaper service that takes our used cloth diapers somewhere and replaces them with washed ones. They are very environmentally conscious and don't use bleach, which helps explain the occasional yellow stains on the diapers and perhaps some infections. This is Grass Valley - we are lucky to even have a diaper service, and they otherwise are very nice and professional.

Nonetheless, they also need to make money, which perhaps explains this awkward conversation with them.

TODD: Hi, we tried out a couple larger diapers and now we need to completely switch over.
SERVICE: OK, are you sure? I think smaller diapers are right for newborns - we usually give our larger diapers to babies over 3 months old.
TODD: Yeah, I'm sure.
SERVICE: (Hesitantly): OK, so you want 60 diapers, then?
TODD: Ummm...We get more than that, don't we?
SERVICE: (Pause): We usually give 60 diapers a week when babies get to that size.
TODD: How many diapers are we using now?
SERVICE: About 120.

Now ponder, if you may, 120 diapers per week. First, there are 168 hours in a week. Considering that Max uses disposables during the night - at least 8 hours per day - we go through one diaper an hour. Now, there are times when we use several to clean up, umm, Max's tailings, but it takes an impressive combination of binge eating and fussiness to require this record-setting number. We are now paying a diaper surcharge.

Guitar Hero

I know this blog is about Max, but I want to take a detour. Recently I played guitar in front of a live audience in Grass Valley, and it went really well. I have footage of my solo below.




Actually, I was very encouraged by the car ride home from Roseville. Max was crying in the backseat, so I tried some wussy song from XM Cafe to calm him down. He cried harder. So I turned the station and Led Zeppelin "Heartbreaker" came blaring out. Max calmed down! Thus far, he shows excellent taste in music.

The revelation

Actually, there was no revelation. But here's a cool photo we took from our car on the way to Roseville.

PF Chang's, Figure 1. Max has quickly gained weight but is not shown here.

PF Chang's, Figure 2. Max is at bottom right.

SCENE: PF Chang's, Roseville Galleria. Delia, Adriana, and Todd are at a table. Max is in a stroller facing Todd.

Todd: (Looks at Max.)
Max: (Looks at Todd.) WAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!
Todd: Looks at food.
Max:
Todd (Looking at Delia): Delia, how's Max doing?
Delia (Seeing Max from side): He seems okay.
Todd: (Looks at Max.)
Max: (Looks at Todd.) WAAAAAAHHH! WAAAAAHHH!!!

This was not my proudest moment. Max is 7 weeks old and he already hates me. But, with Max more and more uncontrollable in PF Chang's, and figuring he'd have to deal with me anyway, I took him outside to see if I could do something.

Outside of PF Chang's, Max still stared at me, but the crying stopped. He was fine until I brought him back in the restaraunt, when he started up again. In fact, I eventually carried him across a windswept, cold parking lot, and he didn't complain until he was back in the car.

I really don't know what happened - I'm guessing we overdressed him, or perhaps he doesn't like the Westernized decor of the middlebrow box chain - but I've noticed that eye contact will sometimes set him off when he's not feeling great. I wonder: Is he trying to talk to me?

You may wonder: "Where are the photos?" I'm setting up an account on Picasa so, if you wish, you can skip all the wit and wisdom and go straight to them.

The Crying Game

Yes, this is the same baby.

Max has brought new joy to our lives, etc. etc....whatever...actually, really, our desperate goal since Max's birth is really simple: Minimize his crying. There are lots of books saying that sometimes babies need to cry - simply put them in another room and let them work it out. I don't care. I'm worried about myself here. I absolutely can't stand hearing him cry. And I'm not alone. Apparently it's an effective torture technique to play tapes of wailing babies. Not only that, but I'd say 90% of the time, Max will stop crying instantly when we figure out what his problem is. So what can we do?

I'll summarize the techniques we've tried, told in the voice of the nagging overseer giving advice to the stressed-out holder of the baby:

-Have you changed his diaper yet? When? Have you fed him? When? You didn't write it down? How come you don't remember? (Usually followed by mom strangling advice giver.)

-He's working through something - could you just hold him and let him work through it? (Max turns towards holder and almost ruptures eardrum with a scream.)

-I'm pretty sure he just needs to be entertained. Why don't you walk him around and jiggle him? It always works for me. I don't get why you don't just try it.

-Let him cry. Babies need to cry. It is okay. Let him cry. Max needs to cry. (Max currently lets out forlorn sob that simultaneously conveys that he utterly abandoned, is in deep pain, and is wondering why no one loves him anymore.)

-Just do what the Happiest Baby on the Block says. This guy has 20 years of experience. Why don't you just listen to him?

-Just switch his position! He doesn't like what you're doing. Are you hurting him?

-Just do what worked on him yesterday. (Note: This displays what I believe is the ultimate in naivete.)

-I think he needs (editor's note: The Option of Pure Evil, that must not be mentioned by name, is given. Okay, it will be mentioned by name later. )

-Yes, I know we changed his diaper 3 minutes ago - he may have peed again. Why not check his diaper?

-He's too cold. Babies need to be warm. You need to find his hat. His hands are cold.

-Give him tea. No, really. Tea will calm him down. You should give him tea. Tea will calm him down.

-I just held him and he was fine. Just hold him the way I held him. No, it doesn't hurt your back.

-Try a pacifier. (Pacifier is given to Max. Max spits out pacifier and wails even harder.)

-He's too hot. The house is hotter than it was yesterday.

-He's sick! You should call the doctor! We need to get him to the HOSPITAL!!!!!! NOW!!!!!! HE'S GOING TO DIE!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAHHHHH!!! (Note: This advice, so far, mercifully stops when, for example, Max poops and calms down like a light switch went off.)

Strong opinions, little data. Reminds me of politics. In any case, we've had plenty of opportunities to try all of them (except the tea, actually - tea is very popular in Europe but we're Americans, dammit, and American books say to give only breast milk.) And it's fairly easy to get him to stop crying momentarily - just distract him or move him to a different position. The key is to get him in a long state of calm - in my experience thus far, this only means sleep. Once he's calm, just the slightest misstep will make the difference between his drifting to sleep and his remembering that he's supposed to be wailing his head off.

I'll just talk about a couple methods. First, an impromptu soothing session during a hike, before and after soothing.

The strange posture and shushing comes from following the method of "The Happiest Baby on the Block" by Harvey Karp. It's highly recommended by people with impressive credentials (scroll down to the reviews). The teacher of our childbirth class played the video for us. Our pediatrition has Dr. Karp's methods summarized on a baby pamphlet. My (Todd) mom and dad saw the video, and dad said he would have gladly paid thousands of dollars for it when he was raising us. The video shows baby after baby stopping their crying as if a light switch went off. And it works, as you can see from above. If Max isn't hungry or poopy (and even if he is) I can use the methods to calm him down and get him to sleep in as few as a couple minutes (much more if he's fussy.)

The method is a 5-step program: Swaddling him up, putting him on his side or stomach,"Shusshing" him (going "Shhhhh!" into his ear loudly), swinging/swaying him, and finally, letting him suck on a binky. The author of the book says the swaddle, the loud white noise, the swinging all imitate the uterus, which will make the baby feel much more at peace and at home.

I'm not sure I buy all of that. First, is the uterus all it's cracked up to be? We all know that babies kick when moms are quiet. While Delia was pregnant, I wondered: Are they just throwing a temper tantrum, but can't be heard because their lungs are filled with fluid? This article says yes. Second, I understand why swaddling imitates the uterus, but the baby positions recommended by the author are very strange. None of them allow for easy eye contact. In fact, sometimes during the swaying, Max will turn to look at me for a bit (an apparently loving gesture), and then start screaming. Louisa, a baby we know in Sacramento, does the same thing. Finally, the uterus is supposed to be 90 dB, which is the sound of a vacuum cleaner. I had Delia shush loudly in my ear recently and there's no way it's 90 dB. It's loud. The book says that baby's ears are clogged and their eardrums haven't developed yet, which means the shushing doesn't have the same effect it would on grownups, but it's still way louder than 90 dB.

I'm starting to wonder if the soothing methods more resemble a police action. The lack of eye contact may just be to avoid confrontation - the same if you're trying to avoid aggressive action from a dog. In any case, Max clearly responds to softer sounds these days so I'm shushing much softer or just singing to him. They both work well.

Next is the jiggle chair - basically a battery-operated massage chair that's easy to bounce up and down. I wish I had one for myself. In fact, the top photo of a happy Max is taken on the jiggle chair.

The jiggle chair, however, is frought with peril. First, the battery can jiggle out or something can go out of alignment, causing the jiggle chair to be too harsh - a big problem if it happens at 2:00 am. The battery and jiggle apparatus is right next to his feet, making him upset if his feet get too close. Finally, Max has adapted to the jiggle chair and has had progressively higher standards on his ability to be soothed.

Luckily, I'm an engineer. The next photos show improvements: First, I added pads to the battery holder (A), which keeps the battery more secure. Second, I placed foam (B) on top of the jiggler to better isolate his feet. Finally, I used masking tape (C) to absorb some of the vibrations in the joints. (C) was a compromise - the vibrations are supposed to travel through the frame - but I felt it was worth it to absorb the harshest jiggles.





The improvements helped, but it's still a battle. Will Max go to sleep? Will he burst into tears? I forgot how this ended.

Max vs. jiggle chair.

Finally, I will discuss The Option of Pure Evil. It is used when we are bereft of any options or hope. When we are old and gray, the Option of Pure Evil is the most likely reason Max will dump us in a 100-square-foot retirement home staffed with angry nursing school dropouts. Pictures of the torture device are shown below.

Instrument used for the Option of Pure Evil, Figure 1. Note mirror on top left, pointing in some useless direction.

Instrument for Option of Pure Evil, Figure 2: Close-up of boppy. Note smiling bunnies and turtles, as well as the brand name: "Tiny Love."

The Option of Pure Evil is tummy time. Max is on his back constantly (because of fear of SIDS), so he never gets the opportunity to push himself off the ground. Tummy time is therefore recommended by basically everyone who knows about it. Max's chest is put on the boppy, which makes it easier to lift his head up, and even look at himself in the mirror! Isn't that precious.

Taking a neck-jarring U-turn back to reality, Max can handle perhaps 10 seconds on the boppy before going insane. I can hear through the DSL line, "Why don't you put him on the boppy when he's in a good mood?" Good point - that buys us about 2 more seconds. Then we have to spend the next half hour calming Max down.

None of us could handle tummy time, even though we're supposed to do it. However, one day, around 8pm, as usual, Max was crying his head off, pushing and kicking despite all our best efforts. So I wondered: Does he need to release some energy? Maybe we can make the whole process go faster. I put him on the boppy and let him flail around until someone in the room yelled at me to rescue our poor whimpering baby from the torture device. After the 5-minute episode, I felt like a reptile, but Max was quiet - he ate well, went to bed quickly and slept well through the night! No 3:00 am hour-long wailing session. Lest this point is missed - 5 minutes. That's how long it took for Max to work through his crying.

Max on boppy. Screeching not included in photo.

I'm ashamed to say I've used this method for the past few nights. It's worked, but, in the tradition of everything else we've tried, Max has adapted. Now he'll cry far more efficiently on the boppy, lying down without expending the effort to raise his head. This gives him the needed energy for his 12:00 am cry. Also, somehow this became my responsibility. As in, "Todd, I think he needs tummy time." Like I want to be the main subject in Max's tell-all biography.

Speaking of which, he's screaming now. I'll have to go and give Delia some advice.