Late Posts: Pooklet's 5-month Birthday Observed

April 22, 2008

The Pookies got an unexpected date night last night when Pookie suggested we get half-price tapas at Alder Market Bistro.

Isaac showed his new behavior in public, talking in mini-shrieks. He refused to be silenced by the bink. But he wasn't so much a nuisance as a harbinger of louder cries to come in quieter restaurants. He just wanted to talk. It was cute the way he contentedly quieted when his mama finally picked him up out of the car seat and held him.

By the way, he all but said, "Hi!" to me in the backseat on our way to the restaurant. It was more like an "I!" which is half his name so, either way, it's a victory-in-the-making. I've been repeating the phrases "Hi, Isaac!" and "Hi, Daddy!" lately in hopes that he'll one day greet me after work. I'm hoping for the latter.

Anyway, when we got home, Pookie surprised me with a clean, vacuumed bedroom floor and a made bed, the two surfaces that make the most difference when they're clean. It was so nice walking to the bathroom this morning and feeling a clean carpet. It was actually peaceful to see a sea of uncluttered white before me in the quiet of the morning.

April 24, 2008

The Pookie is cracking down on keeping the pooklet on a schedule.

Starting today, she has her blackberry reminding her when his Pookness should eat and sleep. We're reducing the margin of error that undisciplined good intentions allows. Any fussing we can reduce by being more consistent is our goal. So this morning,m I had my direction from the wif to open the blinds in the room of pooklet for a natural, but quicker wakey-wake. A more intrusive way to facilitate this, by contrast, would be to stand on the changing table and take photos in rapid succession, which is what I did soon after drawing the blinds. Yes, I woke him up doing this, but I got this 1-second sleep smile before he woke.

Big Science: The Sound of One Hand Clapping

One of the problems with writing a review of Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed is that it will fall on too many deaf ears. Before seeing it yesterday, I read one complete review and several excerpts of reviews from prominent news journals bashing it. The falsehoods and misinterpretations I came across made me want to respond but reading some of these angry-sounding reviews also made me think that a truthful response isn’t what this crowd wants. As appealing as debates sometimes are as an information source, they don’t seem particularly effective in turning people against whatever belief they came in with. In the end, I suppose the best debates, even if ineffective, happen between friends, who have less pride at stake. No bloggers involved and you still part as friends.

Here’s the synopsis of Expelled. Ben Stein shows us that educators and scientists are being ridiculed, denied tenure and even fired for believing that there might be evidence of design in nature instead of accidental and random chance.

I recommend this film because it’s a comprehensive look at the suppression of scientific freedom that’s going on. It’s also an entertaining film. Let me get the film’s mechanics out of way first. Director Frankowski keeps what is essentially a film of interviews interesting with good camerawork. Wide-angle lenses (including fisheye) and time lapse photography always entertain me (I suppose that’s something of a confession). The framing of the interviews changes enough without being distracting. Frankowski and editor Simon Tondeur use archival footage well throughout the film for both humor and pathos, intercut to drive home various points. Andy Hunter and Robbie Bronnimann complement the pacing with a good soundtrack, and Stein keeps things humorous by being himself.

All of these kudos can be reversed, of course, if you’re an antitheistic evolutionist. I’ve read reviews that criticize the elements above as irritants in the service of an over-the-top propaganda piece.


So, the Debate:

• The evolutionists in the film don’t see Intelligent Design as science, nor do they see Darwinism failing to meet any of the same criteria by which they judge ID. They don’t know how life originated, yet they know it wasn’t designed.
• The Intelligent Design (ID) advocates want equal time in labs and classrooms with the simple proposition that people be allowed to choose which theory makes more sense.

The reigning attitude of the evolutionist scientists interviewed seems surly, defensive, and annoyed. One scientist seems irritated at hearing Stein repeat his question on how living tissue was formed from non-living matter, yet the response he gives is only “one hypothesis,” and that of something as strange and hard to grasp as cells piggy-backing onto crystal formations. This in my opinion summarizes the anti-ID stance in Expelled, short on answers, long on attitude. When legitimate questions are asked about holes in evolutionary theory, the response is one of exasperation instead of a coherent answer. ID advocates in the film are treated as naïve children or as a religious menace but many of the “Big Science” names left me incredulous with some of their assertions. Richard Dawkins, the most prominent evolution voice interviewed in the film, has the most remarkable responses at the end of the film.
It's a random point, but Stein’s uniquely comatose demeanor is well-suited to interviewees that want to be heard and not interrupted.

A couple more random points and I'm done (It's already a day late and 10pm on Sunday night).

In comparing notes with both my pastor and my wife, and in assessing Roger Friedman’s review, I’ve drawn the conclusion that the more you know about this debate going into the film, the more linear the structure will seem. Still it’s worth a viewing if you can learn one new thing in this debate.

In the film, Paul Nelson of the Discovery Institute makes the point that ID is not a Christian movement. People of different faiths, including agnostics, are involved in the support of ID research and education. However, according to many evolution exclusivists, ID can’t be science because it’s “religion” (Never mind the categorical overlap if the creator of all life is worthy of praise). However, religion needs to be clearly defined for the evolution lobby to make a case with it. “Creationism” is a religious term used derogatorily in the film by evolution scientists to put ID in its place (privatized and separate from science) but religion itself doesn’t necessitate God or even ID. After all, the US Supreme Court has stated that even Secular Humanism is a religion.

It is my hope that in the next few days I’ll continue this post with some interesting points from Norm Geisler’s and Frank Turek’s book I Don’t Have Enough Faith to be an Atheist. I’d written off writing a review of this book, but it’d be nice to review the portions I highlighted, and continue with posts a little deeper than:

“We sucked two boogers out of the pooklet’s nose today.”

a day without work and a blog length to prove it

It turns out that I require antibiotics for one swollen, infected eczema ear.
The doctors at Kaiser really do seem to assess only that which you verbalize and point directly at, even if you’re pointing at something only half an inch away from a swollen, red, pus-filled, scabby ear. I woulda thought I didn’t need to point that one out to him. Anyway, one of the many blessings of marriage, for men in particular, is a woman who will hound her husband for his health, and compensate for the man’s lack of interest in doctor visits and medicine. Hooray for the wif who triumphed over doctor negligence (he was a man, after all), and got things done. I hadn’t even bothered to look at the state of my ear, but in the course of the day’s pooklet photography, I discovered just how bad it was.

I believe in patient responsibility, that we shouldn’t needlessly raise the cost of healthcare by going in every time we have a sniffle or an ingrown nail, but that we should practice preventative healthcare (Kaiser facilitates this well – we live off their advice nurses). I, however, have a tendency to be lazy on the whole with my body, and too easily forego healthcare in general, the clinic and the self-preservation.

Since Pooklet has been grabbing things more and more recently, I offered my face in his crib yesterday when his arms were flailing around in search of something, anything. He promptly grabbed at my face. He even picked my nose.
He’ll also grab the toys we dangle in front of him, which is a good thing to be doing according to the excruciatingly boring video “Wee Exercise.” I sure hope there are better infant exercise videos on Netflix than that one.

This morning as I fed the pooklet, relishing in my second day of pooklet in place of work, I was singing, “I love Isaac in the morning, I love Isaac in the af-ter-noon…” and he stopped drinking to smile at me. That just rules. Such a good baby is he. It makes me wonder when his innocence and wonder will fade. Anyway, this was part of my recent efforts to start using his real name instead of raising him to respond only to “pooklet.”

I’ve also been reading to him from some great children’s books. Arnold Lobel’s Frog and Toad, Kim Lewis’ Hooray for Harry, Boynton’s What’s Wrong, Little Pookie?

One thing that I’ve noticed is that our belches startle him, which serves as a pretty effective (and long overdue) admonition to the pookies.

There’s a lot of joy in feeding him and just looking into his eyes as he looks up at me, all while listening (and singing along to) the songs on ‘Sing Over Me.’

I try to keep our most useful tool, the cloth diaper, everywhere. You don’t have to use an actual cloth diaper, but it’s perfect for wiping up (and catching) spit up and drool, a necessity when feeding. So I drape one over the glider chair, his crip, in our bedroom, so I’m never far from one when the pooklet runneth over.

I've been loving our backyard lately, as everything is blooming. Today, I made a second trip with the pooklet in our baby bjorn (plant color model), and let him grab at a few leaves.


I took advantage of the good weather and our proximity to Kaiser, to jog there and pick up my antibiotics, and request a copy of my eyesight prescription (available in 2 hours). It’s been a while since I’ve run, and I suppose it’s not the best thing to do when you have a virus and an infected ear, but I was elated to avoid driving. Now my lungs feel taxed. But driving in california has become a real drag to me. Being in chicago recently made me realize how much i miss driving there. i also miss riding my single gear bike. come to think of it, i also miss the cool footage i shot of the wif and me riding our bikes a year and a half ago. i'm gonna go look for that.

Lymph nodes and legions

pooklet's diaper rash has worsened, replete with that horrible-sounding word, 'legions.'
nystatin for a prescribed 10 days and desitin for months hasn't kept it from coming back, apparently. we were directed to air out the diaper area for an hour at a time, like three times a day. this i did not do. the wif has, however, and today he peed on himself. maybe that's what it will take if the rash persists. after all, what's a little pooklet pee, anyway?
meanwhile, the pooklet is ever smiley and carefree. what a trooper. he's such a good baby. he's been sleeping easier, too. in a week, he'll be 5 months old.

i especially enjoyed his good-naturedness today because i stayed home sick. for the first time, i got a virus that introduced itself with lymph node pain. i felt nauseous this morning and slept off and on until 1. i'm contagious, but the advice nurse i called reassured us that mommy's breast milk has antibodies to keep him healthy. it's amazing that his mother produces everything he needs.

oh taste and see

Since the wif wasn't around over the weekend, I was left with feeding the pooklet defrosted milk that we froze late december. unfortunately, it seems some of it may have gone a bit sour, the wif informed me today.  Pookie, ever the more involved in pooklet's feeding, sniffed and even tasted a little of the December milk after noting the same reticence that I experienced with him over the weekend (I feel quite sheepish right now).

So now when considering frozen milk, we will taste and smell that the milk is good before forcing it on the pooklet (I picture four little tasting glasses in front of us, and commenting on the subtle undertones and good legs).

The wif deserves credit for being meticulous about freezing milk, following the more conservative estimates for milk storage and scrutinizing the collective wisdom online.  We've actually stored so much that we're sending some to Africa!  (Don't worry, it'll be pasteurized first)  I, on the other hand, haven't been nearly as meticulous in respecting its care, namely things like, ohh, I don't know... the temperature.

cries for playtime, cries for food

Slow news day on the baby front, but oh, well, here's the Daily Pooklet...


The wisdom is, at four and a half months of age, if a pooklet is traveling toward bedtime on 40oz of milk for the day, then he can sleep 9 hours straight.

Well, yesterday, he had roughly 36oz. Pookie assured me by remote that I could probably ignore his vocalizing during the night, as long as it was between 9pm and 6am. Light sleeper that I am, I awoke at 4am to one of his conversations with himself, and had to keep telling myself what I’d read in baby sleep books: don’t go for him. It’s a trap. He just wants to play. But his crying slowly and subtly became more earnest until, at 5am, I responded to what I discerned were cries for milk. After giving him 7oz, I put him down until what I hoped would be his perfectly-timed next feeding: three hours later, right before I needed to leave for church.
That’s a night in the life of a pooklet. As I understand it, these aberrations happen to mama pook, too. Someone oughta read Pooklet the rules. What part of nine hours don’t you understand??

This afternoon, he seemed to be struggling again with wanting to drink yet finding it uncomfortable. He didn't behave like the acid reflux symptoms, but rather would periodically turn to the side so that the bottle nipple would come out of his mouth. Then he'd fuss a little, I'd put the bottle back in, and he'd resume drinking vigorously. This really draws out the feeding time. I'd burp him (or at least try to) and resume. Knowing he'd missed a nap or two, I put him down a couple times, wondering if he was too tired-fussy to eat (even though I think he needed milk), thinking maybe he'd get a much-needed nap, and then drink to the full after. I eventually got him to drink it all, and now I don't hear anything on the monitor.

I just set up a CD player in the nursery, and was using it for the first time. Maybe he just doesn't like classical music.

day in the life of a PAPA!

Today, the wif flew down to LA for a bridal shower. It was my first full day alone with the pooklet. Tomorrow will be my second, as the wif won’t return till after pooklet’s gone down for the night.
Today was such a pleasant day. It was about 80 and sunny, but even nicer was the pace at which I got to operate. I dedicated myself to tending to pooklet’s care and devevlopment. I was meticulous about feeding, moisturizing, and putting him to bed, keeping track of times and ounces on my blackberry calendar.
It was idyllic. Perfect scheduling, perfect child.
I thought I wouldn’t have to venture out at all and compromise his sleep schedule, until I realized there were only about 7 dumplings left in the freezer.
So when the pooklet awoke next, I plopped him in the BOB and drove him to Costco for a pizza at the food court.
I was happy it was the first tank-top-weather day of the year until I realized that my brand new Jordan bulls jersey was bright red in a town full of norteños and sureños. I figured I was safe pushing a stroller.
But then, the stroller is sort of red, too.
On the way to costco, pooklet had a really heartbreaking look of disappointment that said, “I wanted to play, daddy… Why are you sealing me inside a vehicle?
On the return trip, he dozed a little, which threw him off a little when we resumed feedings and sleepings. But perhaps the real issue was his underdeveloped esophageal flap or whatever because he struggled with the bottle, pushing away and leaning back and whining, and then whining for the bottle when I took it away. He was like, “Owie, owie, owie! … Hey! I didn’t say ‘stop.'”
But at the most difficult hour, he went down surprisingly well, despite the trauma of forcing milk down. We’re trying to give him 40 oz. a day now.

Since I did very little besides hold the pooklet in the bedroom with the sliding glass door open, I got to enjoy the simpler things in life, like my neighbor’s fruit tree overhang.


I’m listening to some of Andy Hunter’s new tracks. I bought a few of his April 8 releases on iTunes, as well as some brown Born dress shoes that I tried on at Dillard’s last night. Man, what a convenience. $50 cheaper online, easy return policy with prepaid shipping labels, and even a 10% off coupon I found at another site (The wif got me into that habit).

The pookies realized last night that shopping at malls has risen in our perception far beyond the old categories of trivial errand-running. With a babysitter freeing us up, we really enjoyed a proper date night with frou-frou appetizers and a trip to the mall. I’m telling you, after a child, everything’s special when it’s just the two of you.