Nate Dawg is hanging out in his crib now. It’s 9:30AM. He had a pretty good day yesterday. He was sleeping for much of it but when he was awake, he was alert and fairly happy. We play a new game where he lays on my chest trying to keep his head up. I implore him to balance himself but he has trouble, and essentially tumbles (gently I am guiding him of course) onto pillows on my left and right. He does not cry when he spins over onto the pillow onto his back. I put him right back up on his stomach and he tries to lift his head and balance himself some more. Signs of a work ethic? Signs of a third baseman who can dive in the hole AND down the line? Signs of someone who enjoys falling onto soft pillows?
Last night Nate went out with Shana, Bobby – who flew in from Geneva to meet Nate – and me to the Argentinian restaurant around the corner. Nate’s feeding schedule hinted at disaster, but the boy powered through. Very impressive. The restaurant lovingly accommodated a stroller and the night was fun. Bobby gave Nate a Swiss flag shirt and then left at 8:30pm for Alana’s, leaving Shana to sleep and me and Nate to watch the Jets play the Dolphins. Nate fed at 9ish, which put us off our little feeding schedule. Nate needed to make it to 1AM if we were to have any chance of sleeping in shifts. He fell into a deep sleep, which made changing him easy. I then put him in the car seat in the bassinette in the bedroom and he woke up hungry at 1AM. What a good kid!
But I awoke at 830am this morning to learn from Shana that the two of them had a rough night, that Nate awoke at 330am and never really settled down leaving the two to sleep in ugly 10-15 minute patches. I just changed him and put him in his crib. He’s listening to Tom Waits now.
Warm beer and cold women, I just don’t fit in / every joint I stumbled into tonight / that’s just how its been / all these double knit strangers with / gin and vermouth and recycled stories / in the naugahyde booths
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