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We purchased many gadgets for transporting Jesse
around. My favorite was a small detachable seat from a swing set.
This was not a legal car seat (we had one of those, too), but was
great for being on the go. Set it one position, and a handle goes
across the top and lets you carry the baby like a picnic basket. Push
a button and the handle swings beneath to support the seat in a
sitting position.  We
used this seat when Jesse was only three or four days old to take
him to Ram’s Horn for lunch. I wanted to show Lyn that I was
clever and worldly and that Jesse would be presented with a life full
of adventure and limitless possibilities. Lyn interpreted this
instead (with much verbal reinforcement from her mother, among
others) that I was irresponsible and not to be trusted with the baby.
It was obvious to everybody except me, not that I was full of life
and wanted to give that life to my son, but that I was set to have
him killed or maimed and that it would be everyone’s duty to
protect the helpless baby from his reckless father’s lame
brained ideas.
We purchased a portable playpen kit. It was really cool but no sooner
had we bought it than a better model came along. You would unzip a
nylon back and dump out 10 or so small aluminum pipes. They pushed
together to make a frame that you then slipped a nylon sleeve over
and "Wah-la", instant playpen. Took about 5 minutes to set
up and 3 to take down and you could easily stash it in the trunk and
take it anywhere! This was the kind of tool I wanted to let us go to
the park or lake with baby Jesse. The newer model had one button you
pushed and it set up in 15 seconds and folded down in less. Oh well,
they probably have an even better one by now.
We also purchased a piece of new technology called a ‘baby
monitor’. This was a simple device made by Fisher-Price with
big, bubbly shapes and colors and buttons (like the Sesame Street
stuff). It plugged in and set near the baby’s crib. The
receiver, shaped like a walkie-talkie was battery powered and could
clip to your belt. The idea was that you could step out of the house
during baby’s nap without worrying about having to be in earshot
of the baby to hear it cry. It was a ‘freedom machine’ for
Lyn, letting her rest on a lawn chair or read a book in the backyard
sunshine or putter in her flower beds during Jesse’s afternoon
naps. The signal only traveled 100 feet or so, so you couldn’t
take off very far, just to get outside and get fresh air and sunshine
without having to dress up the baby, then undress him when you were
finished. Sadly, Lyn never used our monitor for freedom, only to
increase her prison.
 Lyn
would not step outside during Jesse’s nap. "What if he
choked?" and "I won’t have him crying" while
I’m outside, even 10 steps was too far from her prison. So did
we throw out the monitor as a failed effort? No, Lyn then turned the
monitor on and put it on her pillow and held it to her ear all night
every night, and I quote to "Hear the baby breathing". She
often bragged to other mothers what a fine quality monitor it was,
because you could hear the baby’s breath. I pointed out that to
hear that breath required that you stay awake all night. "What
if he stops breathing?" and "you’ll be glad I did this
when I save the baby’s life" were typical responses. Sadly,
trying to protect Lyn from this self-destructive behavior was readily
interpreted as additional proof that I was uneducated in the
necessities of tending to a baby. The more I tried to protect Lyn and
the more I tried to expose the newborn to the world, the more I was
the victim of discrediting and ridicule. I was forced, by the extreme
coercive powers opposing my openness and common sense, to subdue my
sensibilities through this unnecessarily stressful time.
 We
had a clever stroller, that was first a baby carriage for a newborn,
then converted into a nice sit up stroller as the baby grew. Of
course it folded up and stored in the car trunk. We put our week old
baby into the stroller and went to see Tammy’s clean-up fix-up
paint-up parade from Whitmore-Bolles elementary school. Although they
were due to move away within a year or two, at the time Tammy
attended the same school that I had attended just twenty years
previous. A matter of fact, she was in the same room, even being
taught by the same teacher. She was walking in the same spring
neighborhood parade that I had marched in, too. So we put baby Jesse
into his carriage, and walked the three blocks from our house over to
the parade. We took a lot of pictures, and Lyn’s dad played a
little hooky from his sales calls and joined Lyn and I.
Lisa had a backyard picnic for Lyn's family for
Memorial Day. We used the new carriage to walk baby Jesse around the
corner to their backyard. Memorial day week-end in Michigan is the
beginning of spring, and the end of the long winter imprisonment.
Jesse had been born after the last snow flew (you're welcome) and
Memorial Day was glorious. We put Jesse in the stroller (he was
little more than an eating crying sleeping sack of potatoes) and
strolled him around the corner to Lisa and Nicks house.
"Good Granny" had passed away a little over a year previous
(darn it), but "Bad Granny" was still of sound mind and
body that day. Grandma (Lyn's Mom) and Grandpa (Lyn's Dad) were there
and we have lots of pictures of everybody playing with the new baby.
I generally remember feeding and changing Jesse that day, but mostly
I remember the total and complete spectacle made of nearly routine
parental task. I felt that day (and still feel today) that the
ridiculous, overbearing and irrational action of those grown adults
(grand and great grand mothers) should have resulted in a more direct
response to them from Lyn. Their crazy diaper obsessions, ongoing
until Jesse was toilet-trained two years in the future, were
constantly used to denigrate and usurp my and Lyn's authority,
confidence, and parenting skills. While I always did my best to
empower and instill confidence in Jesse's caregivers whenever I
entrusted him to others, such courtesy was never ever
reciprocated. There has seemingly never been enough picayune
minute-to-minute advice from them to be given to Lyn or I. This is
sad because at that very critical point in time I wanted and needed
to draw upon these fellow adults as resources for common sense advice
and experiences, such that I might sort through and apply whichever I
found appropriate, and gain much needed self-confidence in my
parenting skills. Instead, the only method of ‘helping’ was
hovering and barking instructions, all of them phrased as imminent
danger to the baby at the new parents unqualified hands (to maximize
shame while minimizing confidence). Of course, all of it dished up
with great big bowls of nauseating baby-talk. Them:"Now we deed
to changy-wangey the Jess-sters messy-wessy diapie, don’t we
Daddy". Me: "Let him finish crapping first, OK?".
Them: "Now we don't want the baby-waybe to get big ol' mean
sores on his poor wittle bottom now do we?" Me: "Just knock
it off, ok?"
 Lyn
was always vulnerable to this manipulative intrusion (each one,
sadly, a lost opportunity for building confidence and giving insight
to us as new parents) and she also used this denigrating technique of
her forbearers to give me self-doubt about caring for my new son. As
I said, I was totally lost, but I have always been a quick learner
and have a gift for being able to see or invent improvements to any
system that is methodically introduced to me. But nobody, not Lyn,
not Jesse’s grandparents, not the daddy ‘rap session’
during Lamaze, would sit down and give me simple, common sense, basic
baby-care training. But people would stand in line to wordlessly
hover over me, snorting and chortling with my every tentative move,
then finally snatch the baby out of my hands to ‘do it
right’. This frustrating, and destructive behavior was performed
regardless of my own developing skill set over time.
When I think about that time and that behavior on Lyn’s
family’s part, it strikes me that they knew (and know) no
better. After all, there was no accounting for the fact that within
their family, we were a total aberration. We had waited eight full
years before having Jesse, and we were almost 30 years old at his
birth. We had a life together, a steady job (some would say a
career). We had purchased two houses, lived in three different cites
and had owned 3 different cars. We had set a lot of goals and already
had achieved many of them. We had a fairly good handle on what we
liked and what we didn’t like, what we wanted and what we
didn’t want. Of course, our priorities had changed a hundred
times and have changed a hundred more since then, but the fact of the
matter is that we had had our own lives for nearly a decade before we
brought Jesse into them.
 This
pattern, (late marriage, wait a little for kids) actually follows my
own dad’s history, and my parents did not assume that we were
ill equipped for raising kids. Mom offered suggestions (sometimes
bizarre), but could readily accept the fact that we followed some as
suggestions as gospel and discarded others out of hand. She never
grabbed the child out of our hands to perform some task, effectively
communicating that we were unqualified as parents at that moment and
that it was necessary to protect the child from being harmed by us.
While Lyn’s mom did this only infrequently, mine never did it, ever.
With Lyn's mom, it was always in the air.
But we were the first couple on that side of the family that waited
until almost age 30 to have their first child or even 25. Honestly we
were the first to make it to 20. Actually we were the first to make
it childless to age 18 in two generations (that we know of) but
probably more likely for three if not four. This pattern probably
created a family historical necessity, where adults needed to be
parents to the new parents. Since all the previous parents and been
only late teenagers, it was natural to protect the baby from
stupidity, and need to ‘settle down’ young people’s
crazy ideas. There was no way for them to digest me, and to a lesser
degree Lyn, as parents to Jesse. That sad fact was true then and,
sadder yet, it is still true today.
At Lisa’s picnic, we learned more about the
new reality of traveling with a newborn, and there is a lot of
support materials that you just flat-out need to have. Between
diapers and bottles and bags and chairs, strollers and car seats and
playpens. For the next two years (hah! try ten), gone would be the
day of ‘traveling light’ for us.
 Tammy
and Tara were still just tots, Tammy just in elementary school.
Jesse was a new baby that sparked their interest. It started to
become obvious to me that day that it would be years before he was a
‘little person’. Also, Lisa and Nick’s friends
‘the Cartwrights’ also stopped by a little that day (with
their two daughters), checked out the kid, and told some of their
baby stories. I look back on those days and vaguely remember
generally enjoying these family gatherings, even if many of the
detail interactions were completely frustrating.
Without much warning, a friend from work in
Grand Rapids called to visit. Dawn was in Detroit, with Dan (was he a
new husband, a fiance, or only a ‘steady’ at that time?).
Dawn was delighted to play with baby Jesse, and we took a couple of
pictures. It was nice to have friends that were not family, and for
them to take an interest in Jesse. I miss that in my life these days.
Years later, Dawn would have her own babies, twin daughters Katlin
and Emma, and I would return the visit. We shot video at their Grand
Rapids house on my move from Dearborn to Utah, and the girls were
just sitting up. Jesse will always be five years older than them.
It became obvious that I would need to get that
dishwasher installed. I had paid lip service, but now understood in
living color what a pain it is to sterilize baby bottles without a
dishwasher. They must be  washed
by hand (which I dislike doing), then boiled in a pot of water (time
consuming), then fished out hot (ouch! ow! yeow!), allowed to cool
(the baby is crying) then filled. A dishwasher nullifies all of this,
and common sense said we needed it right now. Having a baby at home
was not yet an issue, as a newborn is truly just a sack of potatoes.
I did not realize that this project would be the last time for a
couple of years that I could leave hammers and saws and electrical
connectors just laying around on the floor during a project. I had no
idea what I would be in for in just the next few months let alone the
next five years.
It took me several week-ends to install the dishwasher, but I did it
myself. The cupboard needed to be cut away. To my surprise, the
countertop was a non-standard height, and about two inches too low.
After dozens of measurements and failed efforts, I first had to cut
out the subflooring under the dishwasher (installing it directly on
the rough war-era floor joists), then finally actually drill into
those joists and countersink the footpads. That dishwasher needed to
sit absolutely flush on the joists. I did the whole project without
any idea of what I was doing, and using only hand tools (I learned
years ago that power tools scared the bejeepers out of me). In the
end, the thing would fit but would not push into the opening. Because
it needed to drop about two inches into a ‘pit’, so to
speak, it had to tilt and slide down. By tilting, the outer
dimensions became slightly taller, and would not pass through the
opening. I finally had to lift the counter slightly, and the
dishwasher fell straight in and fit like a charm.
It was a delight to use the dishwasher and a great ease for
sterilizing Jesse’s bottles. And with a dishwasher now
available, my common sense dictated that we buy dozens of bottles and
rotate them freely. You may not know this and I was surprised to
learn, but the actual bottle nipples come in multiple shapes and
sizes. I had expected to grab a couple handfuls, but learned that
certain nipples were appropriate for water, other for formula, others
for formula mixed with cereal. Also, they needed to c hanged,
just like baby’s shoes, as the baby gets older. Man, I had no
idea what I was doing, but kept my chin up and took things one day,
one crisis at a time.
I had instigated taking Jesse to Ram’s Horn
(our favorite restaurant) when he was only a few days old (and I
regret not taking photos to remember it). I also pushed that we take
a brief long week-end driving vacation,again to prove that the baby
need not impact the freedom of our adult life. We had previously
visited a few presidential graves, and there were a couple just a
little out of town. I wanted to drive the three of us down to
Cincinnati (William Henry Harrison),
over to Louisville Kentucky (Zachary
Taylor) then up to Indianapolis (Benjamin
Harrison). We were to do this in a 3 day 2 night trip.
Lyn was apprehensive, but could not state her case. She just kept
saying ‘you can’t do that with a baby, etc’. It was my
point that I had stayed married and childless for 10 years, and  was
now almost 30, just to provide that I could do that kind of thing
when my son came along. Like all philosophical disagreements that Lyn
had with my behavior at this time, she simply went along and spent
her energy trying to protect the baby from his crazy father.
This idea is not as crazy as it sounds, as the idea came to me during
one of our NIGHTLY car rides with Jesse. As you know, Jesse had colic
during this time, and mysteriously a simple solution for colic is to
take the baby for a car ride. It is almost universal that the
movement, the air, the jiggling and the sounds will lull the most
colicky baby off to sleep. If it made sense to drive aimlessly around
the block, dozens of times, night after night I argued, why not just
point the car in a single direction and have a nice little week-end trip.
I am not certain if Lyn’s mom ever forgave me for being
criminally insane in this regard.
 Poor
Barney! Barney always disliked small children from
babyhood through about age two and a half. Upon Jesse's arrival, he
hid under the bed and would not come out for hours at a time. After a
few weeks, he was developing a "white spot" on his one hip,
and we were both worried that he might have a case of mites. The
veterinarian was very evasive in his explanation to us, with lots of
hemming and hawing. Finally, he explained that many cats develop a
nervous twitch (like a person biting their nails) during a time of
environmental upheaval (has anything at home changed?) He finally
explained that many cat owners simply put their pet of many years
down upon it developing an unsightly spot. We laughed out loud.
"He was here first" was always our attitude. It was at
least two full years before he felt comfortable around the house, and
the spot never truly grew back in fully black. (read Barney's
story here).
During the summer,  Fran
and Scott and the whole gang came up to visit and got to see the new
baby. We hosted a family picnic in the backyard and took a full
family picture with my parents, the four kids and spouses and the
grandkids with baby Jesse (in arms) being the youngest at only three
months old.
For the while it was just naps and diapers, bottles and strollers as
we enjoyed the first few months with our new baby. As summer was
waning, it became obvious that we had best get moving on having the
baby baptized raising the issue of the God parents. Tied into this
was the notion that we now had a child and needed to consider his
future, and our future. Thinking about what fellow adults, folks from
our daily lives, might take on the responsibility for giving baby
Jesse religious and moral training in the unfortunate event of our
demise raised all the other issues about that subject (life
insurance, guardian, etc). We asked Lyn's mom and sister to accept
guardianship if anything should happen during those first few years
as they lived in the neighborhood and were a daily part of baby
Jesse's life. Over time, as he came of age and we moved away,
different people have filled those various roles. However, there were
very real and very timely issues to resolve, not about raising and
caring, but about being a solid moral influence. Who might fill that
role in our untimely absence? What one man and one woman best
exemplified the religious grounding that, god forbid, might someday
be needed?
 We
quickly decided on Lyn's older sister. She had been regularly active
in a series of churches since her childhood. As a young adult, just
two years older than ourselves, she had recently sought out and found
an active parish in a nearby suburb and regularly attended both
church and other learning sessions and social activities. We were
hoping that the role of godparent would include spiritual interaction
with Jesse, even if we were to stick around for awhile. She readily
agreed to the responsibility.
When it came time for a godfather, we were lost. I reviewed my own
family, my brothers and brother in law, and felt none possessed a
spiritual grounding sufficient for my child. Other male relatives on
both sides offered some choices, but nothing that leapt off the page.
I then thought of my fellow school mates. One man in particular, J.D.
(now preferring John), was a compelling choice. In school he had
always been soft-spoken. As he came of age, he was always a voice of
reason and compromise within our group of friends. He was still
unmarried, and living with his parents, but successfully following a
path as a school teacher for late elementary or middle school kids.
But there was something more than that.  During
high school, he started regularly attending church. Not with a lot
of fanfare, but when I asked him about it once, he simply stated that
he started going to the church "across the street from my
parents house". And he attended regularly, and seem to possess
and place an appropriate sense of importance upon religious grounding
and have a healthy relationship with church dogma and procedures. He
had visited us, along with a few other friends from high school, at
various picnics and holiday dinners we had hosted across the years.
He became our choice for Jesse's godfather and readily agreed. He
seemed a little flustered that I had noticed within him the quiet
confidence that would make him and excellent godfather. We talked
privately about what we expected of him, "just in case",
and we were thrilled when he consented.
Jesse's Baptism ceremony was held the last week
in August at our family church, the Good Shepherd United Methodist
(GSUM) in Dearborn. Rev Phil Seymour had been the pastor for several
years, and like most ministers was delighted to bless and bounce the
happy baby. Jesse was happy, cooing loudly through the service and
with everybody's attention during his moment in the spotlight. We had
mostly been on the sideline at church until then, but everybody
stopped to see us and everybody knew us by name from that week
forward. Nothing like a cute baby to be a nice ice breaker with strangers.
After the ceremony, it was home for Jesse's first party. We started
the tradition of the six foot sub sandwich and both sets of
grandparents and both proud godparents changed into comfortable
clothes and spent a couple hours relaxed and socializing. This
symbolically brought to an end this very busy chapter in our lives.
Soon it was labor day and a Michigan fall and
winter. In October, Jesse started to lift his head, crawling by
Thanksgiving. By Christmas, we was sitting up and being a delight
dressed in red and green. In spring, it was his first steps and trips
to the park to play and onward and upward from there. One year after
being car sick in Boston, it was on to nappies and receiving
blankets, strollers and car seats and playpens. We started a new
chapter in our life and to this very day Jesse has been a source of
constant joy in our lives.
How many kids do we have? We have a houseful, we have one. |
