I think it’s because I don’t want to miss a thing with Thalia. I really love her. I love seeing her smile, listening to her sing-song way of chanting da-da-da-da to me on the way to the sitter. There’s something so interesting, looking into her tired eyes as she grumpily screeches, fighting the natural urge to sleep.  See - she thinks she’s going to miss something, too.

We’ve had Thalia at home for over a year now, and it’s been the ultimate test. I won’t know if I passed until she’s grown, but I like to think I’m at least not screwing things up to the point of no return.

Jo’s been gently reminding me (to death) about our need to have Thalia’s one-year photos taken. I just wish I had a better camera; we could do this on our own! Anyone have a good, affordable photographer in the Indy area they can recommend?

I’ve been so busy with life that I’ve neglected to do what I intended this blog to do - catalog Thalia’s first years on this earth, and my experiences guiding her safely into adulthood.

So many things have changed since she showed up. I don’t mean the constant struggle to keep things clean, the constant vigilance against her illogical desire to eat carpet fuzz, the constant worry about lead toys or food-borne bacteria. I mean fundamental changes, like how every day I wake up at 7:30 AM. No alarm clock, not crying baby, nothing at all needed. It just happens. Or how when I watch a parent futilely attempt to calm their baby in the middle of a crowded restaurant, my first reaction isn’t to roll my eyes and wonder why they don’t just take the little screamer away to somewhere more secluded. I just give a sympathetic nod: I feel your pain, brother. 

Thalia has unlocked a joy in my soul that I have never felt. I love picking her up out of her crib in the morning and giving her a big hug and kiss. I love that just thinking about this makes me shed a tear of heartfelt happiness and gratitude that my life includes this little girl. Sappy? Cheesy? No. It’s real, true, unconditional love. Let me tell you - it is a feeling that just doesn’t go away.

Even in the worst of times - teething, tired, and ticked-off, she’s still better than most of the other things I have in my life. And to know that I have such a great partner-in-crime as Joanna to back me up. Well, it makes all the difference in the world.

Joanna and I have been transformed by Thalia. We’ve been thru the gauntlet of high temperatures, long nights, philosophical (loud) disagreements,  and epically-nasty diapers and we’ve come out stronger in our love for one another. My faith in her is greater and stronger than it has ever been. And to think, October 2008 will be our 10th Anniversary.

Thanks, Thalia. In just one year, you’ve vetted me for a lifetime of parenting. I love you and can’t wait to see where you take me next on this long walk called life.

Coincidentally, I’ll be starting my new job the day before we move out of our too-small Apartment into a yet-to-be-found home. Finding a home for rent in Franklin Twp. has proven to be tougher than I thought. Here’s hoping we come up with a few good candidates this week.

Sometimes I wake up in the morning and I wonder what happened to yesterday. Oh, right - work, change, feed, play, change, soothe, feed, lather, rinse repeat.

Somewhere in there, Thalia does something that makes it more than worth while. I may miss it some days, but I know it’s there and that’s what counts.

Jo’s been waiting quite a while to hear that single-syllabic babble from the mouth of our littlest one. Y’see, Thalia’s been saying Da-Da for about a month now (mostly just babble, but I love every second of it) and it’s been driving her crazy that I get all the love and she’s gotten bupkis. Finally, just last week, she said it. She sat upright in our bed, looked at me, and said… ma-ma. That’s right - at me.

To be fair, we’ve both been trying to get her to say mama for the better part of two months so its not like she has suddenly mistaken the big hairy guy in the room for mommy. It was awesome just to hear her say it though, as Joanna will point out a million times over if you mention it to her.

Up next - getting her to identify us as ma-ma and da-da respectively without getting ‘em mixed up. I think we’re making headway on that front already. Thalia’s been making a habit of saying da-da when she’s alert and happy, and ma-ma when she’s tired or cranky. Sounds about right.

I’ve been gone a while now, tired of the “me vs. you” back-and-forth of our Nation’s Red/Blue Political mentality. Sick of the offense taken by so many simply because I believe in a Country rooted in Freedom and Liberty, not one of rules, restrictions, and regulations. Bored with the “same old - same old” debates which have had a choke hold on our Government for the last few decades. Angry with my Countrymen for not seeing what’s going on - that we’re stuck. Stuck in Iraq. Stuck in debt. Stuck in dead-end jobs. Stuck with laws no person should be burdened with.

It’s bad out there. And like everyone else, I’m ready for a change of pace. I’m ready to return to an America I can be proud of. The one I think of when I sing the National Anthem or when I hold Thalia in my arms. One of true freedom from oppression. One with real freedom of expression. One that doesn’t care if you’re gay, straight, black, white, Athiest or Baptist. One that says “give us your tired, your poor” and means it. One that cares about its spacious skies and amber waves of grain enough to protect them from the ticking time-bomb of the Carbon age.

For many, my America is something to fear. One of hippies and homos, of ten-horsepower electric cars and God-hating welfare kings. They say “we can’t”. We can’t offer that kind of freedom and expect to keep order. We can’t let people choose their own paths and think our Nation won’t go straight to hell. We can’t give help to the helpless and expect to pay the bills. We can’t, we can’t, we can’t.

But, of course, we can. We can deliver on the promise of One America. We can leave our Country with a legacy of freedom and opportunity for all people, for all time. We can uplift the downtrodden. We can make our Country whole Again. Wholly American.

Yes, we can. We can, and we will - with the inspiring leadership of President Barak Obama.

Barak Obama, who knows what its like to go hungry as a child. Barak Obama, who has overcome society’s preconceptions and predestinations to ascend within Our Nation’s political system. Barak Obama, whose oratory skills are unrivaled in modern America.

Yes, we can make this world a better place for everyone. Yes, we can elect Barak Obama as the next President of the United States.

• diaper changes
• feedings
• formula hunting
• doctor visits
• more feedings

Somewhere in there, we get time to just sit back and watch her grow (which she has done a lot of lately, 20 pounds!). I’m so happy to have her in my life.

Consider this my comeback post, folks. I’m going to spend some time filling you all in with a series of year-in-review posts to bring on the holidays and the new year.

These last two weeks have been mostly about routine - feedings every 3 hours, followed by colic. We’ve tried out a few different things: new burping techniques, sleep “wedges” to aid digestion, special bottles designed to reduce gas - somewhere along the line, I think we found something that’s helping. The past few days have been easier than last weekend for sure.

I went out without Thalia and Joanna for the first time last night - went to see Transformers: the Movie. While I had a good time, I couldn’t stop thinking about my baby and wife sitting at home without me. It really is true - there’s no place like home.

As I was heading back from the film, an old Bob Dylan song came on the radio. I was struck by it’s lyrics:

And if I pass this way again, you can rest assured
I’ll always do my best for her, on that I give my word
In a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm.
“Come in,” she said,
“I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

It may not have been Dylan’s intention to elicit a feeling of calm in a new father’s heart with his prose, but that’s what it did for me. My daughter is shelter from the storm outside - all the stresses of modern life lifted from my shoulders with one coo, one smile, one fluttering of eyes.

What a way to live, fatherhood.