How (NOT) to Win the Father of the Year Award or Lucy's $600 Birth Video by Jamie

Well folks, we just got our six-hundred-dollar baby video back and boy am I happy. I know what you are thinking. I can hear you all now, “What these fools paid that kind of money for a birthing video, did they have a crew in there or something?” Oh no, let me clarify something here. I paid $600.00 for a non-professional birth video. One that I actually made with the camera I sold my “never played” Nintendo Wii to get after Emmy the not-quite-a-champion greyhound decided to eat the other small video camera we had. Do I have you interested now?

Let me start by reminding you what I do for a living--I'm an IT professional. It's my job to fix other people's computer mess-ups. Folks, this IT professional is an idiot! We all know we live in this nice new digital age. The cost of video cameras that shoot digitally have plummeted. We purchased ours, as I mentioned already, for the cost of one Wii and some change. I wanted this particular model specifically for the convenience that led me down the road to paying to get something that was already mine back. At this point, I am struggling to not go into some overly rambling technical spew of buzzwords so let me insert below the text I sent some friends after I made one of the largest mistakes of the century.

Subject: Step-by-step, how to win the new dad of the year award.
1. Purchase sd flash camera to use for video recording of the baby’s birth and subsequent various activities.
2. Make sure the memory card is large enough to make you lax in moving things off the camera for backup or archival to dvd.
3. Wait until your wife asks you to let your friends borrow said camera to make a video for their grandpa’s bday to send back to Utah.
4. Take camera upstairs and look for somewhere to move data off to so they can snag it.
5. Find out that you have so much stuff on disk that you only have one place to put it in short order.
6. You place said files from camera onto less than year old Seagate 400gig drive.
7. The copy is uneventful and no errors present. Files are there to be edited later on the mac mini for placement on a proper dvd etc.
8. A few days later fire up the drive to at least back these files up to a dvd or another disk you’ve found to be on the “safe” side.
9. Have the worst feeling ever as your gut sinks and you realize the drive is dead.
10. Realize you suck because you have now lost the only video you have of your first kid being born.
11. This step is optional (and could be delayed until when the wife asks to watch the footage again): It’s where you tell your wife and she goes !@#&^&* on you and beats you down like the sorry sack that you are. (Actual excerpt from email sent to friends...)

So as you hopefully can surmise, I made a big booboo. I broke the number one rule of keeping any important data safe. ALWAYS have more than one copy at any given time. I broke my own rule and it stunk in a major way. By taking the footage off of the camera so that it could be borrowed and placing a single copy, on a single external disk I was practically inviting good ole Murphy (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Murphy%27s_law) to come by and pay us a visit. He lives here anyway so it wasn’t a long trip.

Hard drives fail folks. Let me say it again just to make sure we all heard it. HARD DRIVES FAIL. It’s not if, it’s WHEN. If there is anything that is really special to you all out there that only exists in a single place and especially if that single place has moving parts (hard drive). Back it up now, or use a thumbdrive to move it to your significant other’s laptop. Do something, anything, just get those special pictures, videos, etc whatever into more than one place. Heck, I mean while we’re on the subject, let’s introduce a little of what they call in the business “geographic diversity”, that is to make your other copy exist somewhere away from you. This way if something happens to you house (fire, theft) etc that you don’t lose your main and your backup copy of your memories. Have that backup DVD sent to grandmas for safe keeping, or check out some of the numerous online backup firms, they are not that expensive for the peace of mind.

John at hddsavers.com of Florida was absolutely awesome in helping us get the data back. I would have saved a little bit of money had I not wasted many many many hours using some software( great software but i should have just sent this away from the beginning for the sake of time and sanity) until nothing at all would work and the drive finally gave up the ghost. John was able to open the drive up in his cleanroom facilities and do some parts swapping with a donor drive to get it wake up long enough to get the much needed files off. He placed the recovered data on a new external drive and shipped it up to us (keeping a copy until we confirmed we had recieved ours, in case the USPS had a visit from Murphy as well.

Needless to say, my wallet is much lighter now, but I have something back that was irreplacable--watching the miracle of our lives--Lucy--being born.

Lucy's First "Real" Trip to the Doctor's Office

Up until this point in Lucy's 4 months, she's only ever had to go to the doctor for well visits. Luckily, she hasn't been sick (knocking on proverbial wood as I type this) so we've been able to avoid the doctor's office. Today, we made our first trip. Ironically, the visit wasn't so much for Lucy as it was for me.

Most would describe our little Luce as a good baby. For the most part, she's easy-going and happy. She smiles at just about anyone she sees, and she loves meeting new people. However, last Monday began a string of trying days in which our usually smiling baby became a quite the little crier. Unfortunately, Lucy's unexplained crying phase coincided with her first Thanksgiving while her Uncle Patrick, Aunt Amy, Grandpa and Lisa were visiting. Each day, Lucy cried from the time she woke up until the time she went to sleep with a few moments of interaction inbetween. We began to worry. Is she teething? Is it gas? Maybe she's fighting sleep. Perhaps she's too hot. Maybe she's too cold. Is she just bored? Could she have an ear infection?

Finally, after another night of minimal sleep, I made a doctor's appointment this morning. Jamie dropped Lucy off at daycare, and I fully expected to get a call from them about her "fussiness." However, the morning went by with no call. When I walked in to pick her up, Lo and Behold there was Miss Fussy Pants (Jamie's new nickname for her) sitting at the table, watching her teachers, looking around, and smiling. When she saw me, she looked at me and flashed her little sideways grin, with her peacock hair standing straight up. "Has she cried a lot?" I asked. "No, not at all," they said. I packed her up in wonder and headed to the doctor's office with Lucy cooing happily from the backseat.

At the doctor's office, Lucy grinned for the nurse while she weighed her (she's 16 weeks and weighs about 12 lbs. 14 ounces). When Dr. Song came in and asked me to describe Lucy's problems, I could feel my cheeks growing red as I tried to explain her days of crying and our worries about acid reflux, teething, gas, constipation, ear aches, and more. As she examined Lucy, our little bundle of fussiness became the model baby. She dazzled Dr. Song with her bright eyes and smile, prompting Dr. Song to say, "Wow, she's such a laid-back baby." Oh, if only Dr. Song could've been at our house over Thanksgiving...

A few minutes later, we were on our way home with Lucy snoozing happily in the backseat.

What We Must Teach Our Children...

Each second we live is a new and unique moment of the universe, a moment that will never be again ... And what do we teach our children? We teach them that two and two make four, and that Paris is the capital of France. When will we also teach them what they are? We should say to each of them: Do you know all the years that have passed, there has never been another child like you. Your legs, your arms, your clever fingers, the way you move. You may become a Shakespeare, a Michelangelo, a Beethoven. You have the capacity for anything. Yes, you are a marvel. And when you grow up, can you then harm another who is, like you, a marvel? You must work - we must all work - to make the world worthy of its children.-- Pablo Casals

While surfing the web tonight when I should've been asleep, I came across this quote, and it really resonated, especially in light of all of the tragedy in India and around the world. Our children are gifts--miracles. They are born full of possibility, innocent beings with an unlimited capacity to love. Somewhere along the way, we as adults, teach them hatred. We shatter their beautiful spirits. We focus so much of our attention on providing for our children's comfort. We spend millions of dollars as a nation on baby wipe warmers and bumbos and bedding. We make sure our children go to the best schools and strive to protect them from harm. Yet it seems that we spend little time protecting their innocence, their spirit. When I look at Lucy, I am awed by the endless possiblities for her. I want to provide her with every opportunity to achieve her dreams. But most of all, I want to sustain her innocence, her belief in good, and in the beauty of humankind. I don't want her to judge another on the basis of skin, or religion, or culture. I want her to know that she IS a marvel and never want to harm another. Perhaps I'm overly sentimental tonight as I sit in the quiet after my Thanksgiving guests have left. But when I look at my precious little girl who has finally fallen asleep, I am almost overwhelmed with love and hope. And I pray each day that I can help to make the world worthy of Lucy and all of its children.

Lucy Elf's First Christmas

Ever since baby Lucy was born, we've always lovingly called her our little elf. During a recent trip to Barnes&Noble, Jamie and I found out that Lucy really is an elf--she's on the cover of a book! Actually, we were out for the first time without our Lucy. In celebration of our 3rd wedding anniversary, we went to dinner at Saffron's (love some Indian food...) and then decided to walk around the book store. The whole time, though we enjoyed each other's company, we couldn't help but feel a bit fractured. When we went to the back to browse in the kid's section, we came across a fun little book called "Baby Elf's Christmas." Both of us laughed as we realized that the elf on the front was a spitting image of our daughter. Of course we had to buy it. But just seeing the cover of the book made us eager to get back home to our baby girl. We've already read it to Lucy several times, and she seems quite enthralled. Do you see the resemblance????

Daddy Time

Lucy is her Daddy's girl. One of her favorite things to do is sit in her Daddy's arms, pacifier in mouth, and watch tv. Not just any tv show--she only likes things her Daddy watches. We first discovered her affinity for all things "Jamie" when she was being particularly fussy one night after dinner. Jamie sat down in the recliner and, much to my chagrin, turned on a recorded episode of the British car show "Top Gear." I grumbled, but stopped complaining when I looked over and noticed Lucy intently staring at the screen. Jamie gave me a triumphant look. "That's my girl," he said. I couldn't help but smile. A few days later, she enjoyed a great episode of "Wasted Spaces," a total snooze of a show for me, but fascinating for Jamie as it involves lots of woodwork and building. This picture, from earlier today, is Lucy doing what she loves best--snuggling with her daddy watching a "man show."

Confessions of a Paranoid Mom

I've tried to fight it, but I've lost the battle. I'm that obsessive-compulsive, paranoid mother from the sitcom re-runs. It all started innocently enough--with a single sheet of paper. Each day, Lucy's teachers send home a document letting us know when she ate, was changed, etc. Standard reporting procedures for daycares across the country. No problem...good information for parents to know. But at the bottom of the page is one little line that says "Something to make you smile." The first few days of school, and occasionally since then, Lucy had comments like "Lucy is a joy" or "Lucy had a great day today. She loved watching the bears on the swing." Yes, I know that to most people these comments wouldn't mean a whole lot. But to a mother who fights guilt each time she drops off her baby girl, they are like little pearls of affirmation that she's not permanently damaging her daughter.

As the weeks have gone by, the comments have grown scarce. Now those who know me probably disagree, but I do like to think of myself as a semi-rational being. I realize that taking care of a classroom of infants doesn't leave a lot of time for Lucy's wonderful teachers (they call themselves the Grandmother brigade and really are great) to write extra comments on each baby's sheet. But when another mother came in to pick up her little one, looked at his sheet, and exclaimed, "Oh, how cute. Thomas loved the excersaucer!" I couldn't help but feel a stab of envy. The white glared extra bright on Lucy's paper. She had no comment. Of course I called Jamie to give him this news. "I think they don't like her," I said, fighting back tears. You can imagine his response. I blamed my hormones and let it go. Yet though I tried to ignore that little nagging voice, I couldn't.

My insecurity was worsened on Friday when I picked Lucy up. "Just get her sheet off the counter hon," they told me. Lucy's was on the bottom. As I went through page after page, I noticed that each of them had a fun little comment. I found out that Owen loved his peas and Brandon laughed out loud on the activity mat. My excitement grew as I wondered what Lucy had done that day. And then I got to hers. Blank space. No comment. The little nagging voice grew stronger.

Finally, my paranoia reached its climax on Monday. When I went in to get Lucy, her afternoon teachers mentioned that they had made art projects for Thanksgiving. You're probably wondering what sort of art project a 3 month can old do, but it's actually quite cute. When I was leaving, I peeked into Lucy's morning classroom and saw several of the little turkeys with each child's tiny handprints making up the turkey's feathers. I couldn't wait to see Lucy's. And then I noticed one sad little turkey down on the bottom. This turkey only had one feather. And rather than a feather, it was more like a little balled up fist. Alas, whose name was on the bottom? Lucy Copeland.

The nagging voice became a scream. "They don't like her," I told Jamie as I got into the car. "She never has comments on her sheet and her art project was the only one that wasn't finished." What could he say? How can you rationalize with a crazy, OCD new mom?

As I got angrier and found myself comtemplating going to Target, getting paints, re-doing the picture and taking into the daycare to replace Lucy's current one, I realized that I'd completely lost my mind!

No, Lucy doesn't usually have anything written on her sheet, but she sleeps from the time she's dropped off until the time I pick her up. Doesn't leave a lot of time for interaction. As for the turkey art project, Lucy doesn't like people messing with her hands. In fact, I have to give her teachers credit for even getting a little balled fist print from our sleeping beauty in the first place.

I don't know about lessons learned here other than the fact that I'm crazy and paranoid. I found a strange comfort though when telling Patrick this story and he remarked that he'd heard another lady complaining to her husband that she was afraid their infant son's teachers didn't like him. Patrick said to me, "I rolled my eyes and thought to myself that she was ridiculous. And you are too." Gotta love a sibling's honesty.

For now, I can't wait to add Lucy's first art project, a sad little turkey, to her baby book.

Our little techno girl

Over the past few weeks, Miss Lucy has really begun to "talk" more and more. Jamie's convinced that he has taught her to say "uh-oh." I think his determination may stem from the fact that "uh-oh" was one of his first words. Now, Lucy talks to us when she's happy, when she's excited, and especially when she's displeased. On our way into daycare this morning, she chatted the entire way. She's never too happy when I have to wake her up in the morning and drag her out into the cold, fall air.

I took this video clip last week. She adores her bouncer seat. You can see her excitment as she kicks her feet and waves her arms. I'm afraid she's going to have Jamie's affinity for all things technical and shiny!!