Say uncle!

Just a quick note to tell the world that, in addition to being a new father, I'm also an uncle for the first time. My brother, David, and his wife, Merlie, just welcomed a baby boy to their family. They live in the Denver area, so it may be a while until "Little Elvis" meets his cousin.

Happy Mother's Day!

Just a short post to wish Meredith and all mothers who read our blogs a very happy Mother's Day! Meredith is still traveling with D.J. in Mississippi, so I had to send her a Mother's Day card and gift in the mail. Nothing special, but I hope she knows how much she means to me and what a good mom I think she is. She and D.J. will return, along with her mother, on Friday, and I can't wait to see them all!

Being a bachelor again for the past week, I have been sleeping slightly better without the 4 a.m. changings and feedings. However, I haven't been getting much more rest as the cats, usually banished from the bedroom when the baby is around, have been sleeping with me. The big cat, Wally, has been waking me for his own feedings in the middle of the night -- all he needs to see is the silver in the bottom of his dish and he goes into panic mode.

Like father, like son

What's your blood type? If you're like me (and I know I am!), you have no idea. I'm not sure how I survived 36 years on this earth without this basic knowledge, but I never had occasion to find out. If it was determined at birth, my parents either forgot or never told me and I've never been hospitalized since. I've tried to give blood in the past, but being a squeamish sort, never managed to progress much past the finger prick before nearly hitting the floor.

Anyway, recently there was a blood drive at my workplace and I summoned all my courage and signed up for an appointment. Meredith has been after me for a while to find out my blood type, so this seemed like the perfect opportunity. If Meredith was able to handle labor, the least I could do was donate a pint of blood and find out my own blood type.

Long story short (this is a blog after all), I'm A positive and I am a match for "Little Elvis."

I cried like a baby

This past weekend we watched the movie "The Holiday" with Cameron Diaz, Jude Law and Jack Black. I won't spoil much of the story if you've not seen it (it wasn't a very good movie, so don't rush out to get this one), but one of the traits of the Cameron Diaz character was that she was unable to cry.

This character quirk reminded me of Little Elvis' delivery and the first few days in the hospital. If you recall, it was an emergency c-section and a pretty traumatic experience for everyone concerned. I was allowed into the operating room right before delivery. I was very worried for Meredith and the baby even before entering the O.R. and started crying a little bit when I saw the worry in Meredith's face. Once the baby was delivered and I heard his first cry, I too cried like a baby. Cathartic?!? You bet! I hadn't cried like that in years and it felt very good. I cried a couple days later while we were still in the hospital. I had written an entry in Little Elvis' baby book and tried to read it to Meredith, but got so choked up over my own writing that she had to read it for herself.

If I were a carpenter

Maybe I should say, if I were a woodworker . . .

In any event, if I were either one, I hope that I'd be as generous with my talent as our family friend, Gene Wacyra, was to "Little Elvis."

Gene spent several weekends (I have no idea how many hours) producing this English-style rocking horse. The horse itself is laminated birch plywood, with a solid hardwood base and imported hardware from England. He put a tremendous amount of time, talent and money into this beautiful gift. Then to top it all off, he and his wife, Sue, drove all the way from Lodi, N.J., to bring the horse to us.

Words really can't describe how touched Mere and I were with Gene's generosity -- all I can say is that this rocking horse "really rocks!!!" You'll have to check Meredith's blog for some more photos of the horse.

Existential crisis averted

Ever wonder what the meaning of existence is? What's the point of doing anything? If you do, you may be or might have been a philosophy major in college. When you study philosophy, to paraphrase Steve Martin (who studied philosophy at Cal State Long Beach), "you remember just enough to screw you up for the rest of your life." Another comedian who dabbled in philosophy in college is Woody Allen: "I was thrown out of college for cheating on the metaphysics exam; I looked into the soul of the boy sitting next to me."

I majored in philosophy in college, so I carry these existential questions around with me on a daily basis. I was also a physics major, and I believe that this discipline also carries with it a different world-view. Everyday things aren't just taken for granted -- whether it's the way light is reflecting from the tail lights of the car ahead of me in traffic to wondering whether bubbles in beer travel at a constant velocity. It's amazing, in fact, that I manage to get anything done.

If you ever feel like this, my advice is to have a child. It is so thrilling and wonderful to look at him every day. He gives meaning and purpose to my life. When Little Elvis cries, it means that he needs me and that is the only affirmation of my existence that I need. The meaning of life can be found at the bottom of a dirty diaper.

A month in review

OK, so Little Elvis is almost two months old and I'm finally getting around to posting a compilation of video from his first month. Guess I've been too busy changing diapers and not editing all the cute video quick enough. Anyway, take a look and let me know what you think.

Push-ups and spit-ups

I'm not sure if "Little Elvis" is ready for a rigorous exercise routine just yet -- he doesn't seem to have the stomach for it.