Lullabies

You can tell some things about a person by the kind of music they are listening to at 3:30 in the morning.  When you're in high school or college, you're usually listening to some Phish or Dave Matthews live cuts at 3:30 am.  When you are 32 and trying (rather unsuccessfully) to feed your daughter with a bottle for the first time, you listen to the soothing tones of Norah Jones. 

That's the situation Addie and I found ourselves in last night:  3:30 am, planted in the rocker in Addison's room, Daddy trying to coax Addison to drink from a bottle for the first time.  Unfortunately, despite the serene harmonies of Ms. Jones (like Addie, a Texan), the bottle feeding did not go smashingly.  While Addie did get some milk down, its safe to say that a good amount of it also went down her cheek and her chin and Daddy.  And worse, I don't think my taking a feeding had the desired effect of giving Mandi more sleep, since I am fairly certain Addison's intermittent crying had Mandi sufficiently on edge to prevent rest.  Oh well, Addie and I will just have to keep practicing until we get it right.

The observation about music choices does bring to mind some thoughts about the change in perspective that occured (and is occuring) upon Addison's arrival.  Certainly there is a powerful, almost overwhelming, bonding between parent and child.  I can feel that, and I can see it in Mandi whenever she looks at the baby girl.  But I am also feeling such a great sense of responsibility -- but a responsibility different than I have felt in the past.  Growing up (and even into adulthood), I think many people think of responsibilities as burdens, weights that drag them down and prevent them from doing the things they would otherwise like to be doing.  School and chores are responsibilities; work, balancing your budget and eating right are adult responsibilities.  We accept them, but we don't necessarily like them.  So far, though, it seems like the responsibility of caring for Addison is....fun. 

I saw a friend of ours when I was walking the dogs yesterday morning, and he asked how things were on the home front.  He looked surprised when I said that it was fun.  But I think that is an apt description, there is something enjoyable about doing things for the baby that distinguishes those tasks from "obligations," even at 3:30 in the morning.  (Though, admittedly, its easy to forget how much fun you're having at that hour!) Maybe that sense of joy will change as the routine (and sleep deprivation) sets in.  Maybe, as the tasks get harder and she is causing more trouble, my responsibilities will feel more like jobs that I have to do.  But for now, I am enjoying having this innocent newborn to care for.  If for no other reason than that, Addison and I will probably be giving it another shot with the bottle and listening to Norah Jones again tonight.