no sweat

It was another eventful weekend for The Ben. The weather here in Chi-town slanted just a wee bit to the absolutely hellishly-hot side of normal, but that didn’t stop anyone in this family from making a good time of it. The Ben didn’t seem to approve of the thermometer readings apparently, as he spent the better part of those three blistering days puking all over his clothes. And while he might not have minded constantly changing into another adorable outfit bequeathed to him by one of his loving friends or relatives, mommy and daddy’s summer wardrobe wasn’t quite so deep. It got to the point where it was better to just leave the boy lying around naked with a burp-cloth [or five], which I’ve come to realize must have been the sweaty little guy’s motive all along.

Sunday, The Ben made an appearance at Bar Louie in Bucktown with his parents and their friends Sean and Lauren, none of whom bought the half-pint any beer. He did look a little drunk, however, passed-out and slumping-over in the pouch his mommy uses to carry him around town.

Sunday was also uncle Mark’s 18th birthday, which is scary because I still think of him as a little dude much like my Ben. I remember when Mark was Ben’s size, although I wonder sometime whether he will ever match Ben’s maturity. I keed, I keed.

At grandma and grandpa’s house, Uncle Dan decided that The Ben’s parents didn’t have nearly enough excitement or trauma in their lives, and so figured he’d help them out wherever he could. While grandma was rocking our little duder [who had been battling with the belly-gas monster all afternoon] to sleep outside in her wooden swing, an errant softball [Chicago-style: that’s 16 inches, folks] followed a path that originated in Dan’s hand and terminated at my sleeping son’s peaceful forehead. And because that shock wasn’t nearly enough, the simultaneous shrieks from a mother, grandmother, uncle and aunt [note: daddy is one cool mo-fo] riled The Ben into a frenzy that took ten minutes to calm. Now, before you all get excited and damn my brother to hell, take note that he was the most devastated of all, and he fully plans on paying for my son’s college education [that is if the boy doesn’t suffer from lingering headaches and memory loss]. No, no, no. . . our Ben is just fine. . . and now, after a really good night’s sleep, I’m beginning to think over introducing a softball into our bedtime routine ---- I KEED!

play ball

In reward for his bravery during his visit with the doctor’s needles, The Ben took a car ride up to Milwaukee with his parents and his uncle Mike [the Mife’s godfather] to watch the Chicago Cubbies take it to the Brewers in their semi-annual ‘Game by the Bratwurst’. Unfortunately the Brewers were giving a whole lot more than they were taking in this lopsided 9-4 loss for the northsiders. Our seats were fantastic but The Ben’s were even better. Just a simple baby yelp: “Hey - Boob Here!” and the refreshments were flowing. Anna deserves a ton of kudos for managing to feed the little dude in such cramped quarters. And we all deserve credit for providing that crap hole of a state with some much-needed Illinois income.

Actually, the stadium is one of the better places to see a game, and I think I could infer that The Ben also enjoyed his stay. He definitely tried to join the ear-splitting chorus of fans during the Brewers 8-run second inning, though the fans were merrily cheering and The Ben was worriedly wailing. So, his first brush with rabid fandom was a little rough, but by the end of the debacle The Ben was at ease with the shouting of ten-thousand cheese-heads and well indoctrinated to the lovable losing concept that is Chicago Cubs baseball.

Next up? The Yankees visit Comiskey in August.

ouch!

This past Monday, The Ben endured the most terrible afternoon of his short lifetime, even worse perhaps than the times when mommy leaves the poor boy at home alone with his father. Yes, yes, yes, our little man woke up that particular morning eager to enjoy another fabulously sunlit day and was instead deceived into a trip to baby-hell: the dreaded doctor’s office. And not just any old visit, no, The Ben was there to receive his first leg-full of immunizations. As I’m certain every caring parent would remember vividly, the visit was probably more painful for us than it was for the child. The Ben handled the two punctures with surprising poise then let us know exactly how much trust he had lost in us during a minute-long tirade. It wasn’t long before he settled down and realized, as we stood there perfectly somber, guiltily reflecting on our failure as his protectors, that we had suffered long enough and deserved to be forgiven. Then our son [it is still sooooo cool to say that] granted us a bundle of cooing and smiling before passing out cold from the children’s Tylenol.

It was positively unbearably amazing. And they’re making us do it all over again in just two months. Oh, the horror. . .

gulp, wizz

So many goings-on lately. . . Two weeks ago The Ben attended his first barbeque at uncle Tony’s, his first birthday party at auntie Anna’s, then just last weekend he made his first trip to Lake Geneva after attending his first wedding. Then this past Sunday he gave his father the greatest Father’s Day gift there can be - he slept for almost 7 straight hours at night for the first time! I don’t even sleep that long!

Of course The Mife didn’t get to enjoy that sweet solitude nearly as much, as she spent half the night putting together a very skillful montage of The Ben's photos - a gift for me to put in my office. Now I can stare at one of the many visages of my son [it’s still hard for me to say ‘my son’ without remembering how cool it is to have one] whenever I get sick of one particular stressful or generally crappy moment at the office. Now when I get home in the afternoon, seeing that little dude in four real dimensions after glimpsing only memories and feelings throughout the day, I just want to grab him and cuddle him and figure out a way to bring him back with me to work the next day. Sounds a bit syrupy, I know, and I admit it’s sometimes the same sort of sentiment I share with my bed, though I’d suppose a baby at work would be received more approvingly than a box-spring and mattress.

The visit to Lake Geneva was pleasant for The Ben, even of his stomach would beg to differ. Just after the ceremony Ben demonstrated some of his upper management abilities, chiefly among them quality control. While his dear auntie Joy, merrily dressed in some bridesmaid shade of red, picked up The Ben and paraded him around the congregation of wedding-goers, The Ben made certain to inform his superiors [that being Anna and to some lesser degree, myself] that the new brand of diaper he was sporting was quite inadequate. After passing the knowing Benjamin [and I believe I saw a smirk on that little mischief-maker’s mug] to another baby-smotherer , Joy noticed a certain darkened spot running down the length of her dress just beneath where she, moments ago, bounced our little baby boy on her hip. Oh Ben, Ben, Ben. . . Couldn’t you just hold it for one more minute until someone NOT wearing a $250 dress was holding you? That’s what we around here like to call Good Initiative - Bad Judgment.

Things evened themselves out later when Joy drunkenly emptied the contents of her own wine glass over the suspect pee area on her dress. At least Ben can blame his mishap on his infantile lack of motor and bowel control. . .

Grandma C made the trip downstate from Canada to watch over him while his parents drained glass after glass after glass of gin-and-tonic and wine (never mind that the bulk of those glasses were distributed to only one half of the parental unit). The Ben loved every minute of her presense though was saddened briefly by her departure until he realized that this meant it was time to finally go home and leave behind the god-forsaken state of Wisconsin for the more civilized and friendly flats of Illinois.

Oh well, so much for that - this week The Ben is traveling back to cheese-world to do something he has been waiting his whole life to do – see a BASEBALL GAME! The Godfather (Anna’s g-father) has secured a handful of hard-to-get seats for this Wednesday’s CUBS game in Milwaukee, another ‘First’ for The Ben. We’ll be sure to take plenty of photos, so you can all see his successful auditioning for the team, where sometime next season, The Ben will be the most dominant lefty out of the Cubs bullpen (that shouldn’t be too difficult a title to assume).

baby steps

The Ben has just turned two months old. In the past few days he has obtained some small amount of control over his limbs and determined exactly how to manipulate his fist so that it fits inside his mouth. His silly parents try to help him reshape his fist so that only one - or at most two - digits make their way in there, but The Ben apparently knows better: why munch only two fingers when there are five and a hand to be had?

Standing is also a favorite for the boy. Of course he needs some assistance with the balancing – heck, he still can’t completely manage the weight atop his neck – but once he’s up there, he pretty much would rather not come back down. Only problem: his re-enactment of the feeding ritual, played back in reverse, can end up in your face if you’re not watching too closely. . .

Ahhhhh, the feeding ritual. Although she won’t admit it often, I’m sure The Mife [Mother + Wife = Mife; Not to be confused with MILF, which also applies though will not be discussed here] feels like the dairy section in the grocery store. The Ben can actually smell The Mife a hundred yards away. I’m not kidding. If Daddy is walking with a contented smiley Ben and ventures too near his mother, the scent she gives off rouses a riot deep within his bowels, culminating in a whimper and a puppy-dog gaze that makes his mother groan in expectation of another half-hour on the couch with her breasts hanging out, distracting herself with about the only thing a breastfeeding mother with her hands full can do at the moment [everyone shudder]: watch daytime television. AHHHHHH! She’s become a housewife! NOOOOOOO!

Well, this weekend should be a good one. After spending all of the last weekend with his Bonick grandparents, this weekend The Ben gets to see his cheese-head grandmother. Mom and Dad are going to a wedding reception where, perhaps, a bit of alcohol might accidentally stumble down their gullets - so grandma gets to babysit! Where The Mife will probably make sure to stay within her limits, Dad isn’t so optimistic about his own chances. The Ben wouldn’t notice the difference anyway. . .

hey there, smiley!

What a particular joy it is to wake up in the morning next to a darling smiling little boy, laughing alongside his hottie mommy just after the sun starts washing the room in happy-happy summertime. Mondays couldn't get any better! It seems like The Ben is turning more corners lately than an Indy 500 race. One day it's laughing and smiling; another it's sleeping for three hours in the afternoon; another it's pooping out the side of his diaper (okay that one is a turn towards the Dark Side, but nonetheless a turn). Next up? Sleeping through the night. . . Ooooooh, doesn't that just give you goose-bumps?! Let's hope for sooner rather than later.

Anna seems to believe I think The Ben is cute only when he is sleeping, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. The Ben's sleep time is just the period in the day where he is most cute. He is plenty cute when he smiles, when he looks contemplative, even when he cries. But when he sleeps, that's when the cuteness really oozes out. There is a ton of joy to be had when he is smiling at your endless efforts to get him do to so, but when you finally get him to that certain point where he is so content, so comfortable, so at ease in your protection that he can drift off without worry or pain, it makes you feel like you're actually doing something right. Like these past eight weeks have made you a 'Father', at least in his eyes, because you certainly don't feel like one yourself just yet. Knowing that that little dude thinks you are the ultimate protective canopy, just like you think of your dad, well, it just makes him look so cute! Never more so.

I don't know. Maybe he just sleeps to escape the horror of staring up at my enormous nose and double chin, thinking silently to himself dear lord, I hope I don't look like that when I'm old.

I think I am a little obsessed with this sleeping thing, no? Where are my priorities?!

onward, upward

The Ben is starting to enjoy a bit of a routine each day, including something resembling a sleep schedule and feeding at regular intervals. Nevermind that this routine basically entails sleeping and eating only when he is ready, where he is always ready to eat and seldom ready to sleep. I swear - this boy will be ten time the size of his rather husky father before he is just 5 months young. I don't even eat that much!

On that note, The Ben's momma is looking quite fine these days. Now if the boy could just stop bogarting her breasts, maybe there would be less animosity between him and me. Whenever I get anywhere near his mother, he just starts screaming! Then again, he pretty much screams at me whenever I'm in the room. Then again, he pretty much starts screaming whenever he is in the room. Actually, he pretty much just screams whenever he's not eating or sleeping.

He really is one of my own.

My own father told me when I was younger that I would one day have a son of my own who would make me look back and wish I was more well behaved. That day has not quite arrived but I can start to imagine what the scene will resemble. . .

I guess it's really not as bad as I make it out to be. Anna witnesses more of the goo-goos and smilies than I do - her being around The Ben 24/7 - but I do get to see my share as well. Some people seem to think that babies get more agitated when they are experiencing a growth spurt or shortly before they are about to make some cognitive or social advancement, which can only mean that The Ben is either growing to be very large or very smart. Let's hope for the latter, as my refrigerator can only support a very limited amount of Bonicks, and there is an opening in our family for an intelligent male.

All that being said, I still miss him when I'm at work all day. It's funny how some stranger can enter your life one random day and turn you head-over-heels in love in less than an instant. It's an experience you will never have until you bring a child into your life. And I am so glad Anna made me do it! See you soon, Ben!

he's asleep!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!

The Ben is sleeping - for the first time in a long while - and his folks couldn't be happier. Am I the only parent who has ever sat in front of his slumbering child, smiled and thought babies are just so much more adorable when they're out cold ?

The Ben is now six-and-a-half weeks old, and is beginning to resemble a human boy. At least so far as he can sleep in four hour stretches, smile when he's happy and go nuts when he catches sight of a boob. Just like his daddy. It's makes you wond------

------Oh shit, he just woke up.