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Home life with Ezra

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When talking about Ezra with friends, we’ve gotten into the strange habit of acting like we have habits at all. “Oh yeah,” we’ll say, “he’s really fond of this kind of position for feeding, or sometimes sleeping. And when he makes that face, it means he’s pooping. Or dreaming. Or about to cry.” We don’t really know; we only have a few data points to draw on. It’s still very much a learning phase for us, and for him. If only every education was this much fun.

Afternoon naps
We first arrived home in the afternoon of a beautifully sunny day, and after introducing him to the cats (who were, respectively, disinterested and freaked) and giving him a tour, we plopped down on our bed for a lovely snuggle, feeding, reading and napping session. It was about as cozy as you can imagine. We’ve been trying to keep it up in the days since, though sometimes, if it’s breezy enough, we venture onto the deck.

Daddy time
Biology dictates that Ezra gets lots of skin-to-skin time with Mama. Not so much with Pops. I make up for this with Daddy Time, where I strip him down to his skivvies and lay him on my bare chest. I’ve heard this kind of touch is important developmentally, and there’s the added benefit of his weight keeping my thumping heart from bursting straight out of my chest.

Nothing’s stuck yet as far as nicknames. Vince suggested E.Z., which I like. I do have a growing list of pet names for him, though nothing I imagine he’ll want to perpetuate among his friends. I’ll save those for another post.

Since summer decided to kick into gear just about the same time as Ezra did, it’s been really humid around the house. Humidity begets discomfort begets nakedness, and few can resist the joys of a naked baby. He’s been essentially clothes-free for most the past three days, though we like our furnishings too much to go diaper-free. Meanwhile, a drawer full of cute onesies and tees go unworn. I assume we’ll bow to societal clothing-based pressures once we venture out into the world.

He had them in utero, and like the literature said, he’d has them now. He truly doesn’t seem to mind, and they seem to not last for too long, stopping as abruptly as they start.

Two trips to the pediatrician, just a half-mile away, have given us the chance to introduce Ezra to the neighborhood. The first walk was in 90° sunny weather, so I strapped him to my chest in our Moby Wrap — our lavender Moby wrap — keeping him shielded from the sun. Something about the way I was wearing it and the way Sarah was taking photos compelled a guy driving by to yell out his window “ZOOLANDER! MALE MODEL.”

On the second walk we didn’t have the wrap, so it was just me carrying him down the street as Sarah drove home. The whole time he was completely mesmerized in the trees passing overhead.

I’m turning into one of those guys who only talks about his kid’s poop.
I’m kind of shocked at how quickly I turned. It was fast. Already I’m changing his diaper in mixed company and consulting Sarah about the color of his poo. Becoming a parent makes your priorities shift. Quickly.

Ezra has a posse
Ezra’s had a bunch of visitations from friends, and he’s loved every one. He’s a really easygoing kid, much more than we deserve, and loves nothing more than making silly faces in the laps of strangers. If that sounds like something you’d enjoy, give us a call and we’ll set something up.

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