My First Bath

Because the brown raisin finally fell off, Mom and Dad decided it was time to stop with the "sponge" baths (I don't know why they call it "sponge" because they never used one) and move on to regular baths. They used the SINK! The side with THE GARBAGE DISPOSAL! I'm glad it decided to stay off because this may have been my tiny little watery grave...you can tell above that I'm quite fearful of the monster beneath me.


(Grandma says I look like an Ethiopian. I assure you, I am not hungry. ha.)

After about a minute, I realize that it's really not all that bad. Kind of warm and soothing, actually.



Once they washed all of my parts, it was time to dry off and lube up so my skin stays nice and baby soft. Above, you see me in my hooded towel, brought to us by Aunt Andrea.



And, here I am, squeaky clean, pleading with Dad to either dress me or put me back under the warm water because it's coooooooooldddddddd dd dd dd <---that's my teeth chattering there, in case you didn't know.

All in all, the bath wasn't awful. I can't wait until I'm able to sit up and splash. I understand this is quite fun.

What's in a Name?

It was between Leland or Calvin, with the middle name of Michel (Dad's first name) and no one could decide. Way back in the begining, Mom decided she wanted an "Irish old man name" and surprisingly, Dad said he liked it. Dad's always been a fan of the cartoon Calvin & Hobbes. Mom said she actually liked the name Calvin too, and Dad agreed. They said they'd have to see me to decide for sure. That proved to be more difficult than imagined.

After I was born, and Mom had been fed, the took us down to the Mother & Infant wing of the hospital. There, Grandma and Grandpa unveiled my new hat. They'd bought it months previous and were sure that I had to wear it now. Right now. The nurses came to introduce themselves and noticing the hat and my lack of name, they took to calling me "Sparty." (They are State Fans too!)

("Sparty")

The day we were due to be discharged, the Records Lady kept coming into the room to see if we had come to a conclusion, but there was still no decision. She said she'd be leaving at 10:30am, so she needed a decision before we went home. At 10:25, in his normal fashion of LATE, Dad walks into our room. Mom quickly states that they needed to flip a coin because she didn't want to have to drive back to the hospital to name me. They flipped Dad's lucky coin a few times, it landed on Leland. Mom, still unsure asks "Are you sure? Are you positive? You're sure?" while hurrying to the phone to call the Records Lady. Records Lady picks up, Mom is still asking Dad if he's sure...he's not sure...Mom says "I think we have a name for you." and that's that.

I'm now Leland Michel Becker.

(As you can see, I was nameless for a while.)

The next day, Mom and Dad BOTH called me Calvin, multiple times. Perhaps they chose wrong?

The Brown Raisin

It's gone.
After 2 rounds of Silver Nitrate with Doctor Ali and lots of tugging at it, I am now sans belly button extra.
Next stop, pubic hair (I think)
Woot!

We Have Tears

Since I was born, Dad's been asking Mom why I don't actually cry tears. Mom looked it up on the interwebs and noted that my tear ducts aren't yet developed. They may not be until about a month even.

I do however, produce some pretty significant boogers, as seen below.

I saved this one to show Mom's brother, Uncle Eric, he likes boogs.

So Mom picked one, which apparently, I was quite attached to because I cried so hard that there was no sound coming from my awesome body. Then it happened. I squirted a tear. well, not so much squirted...more like squeezed...barely vacated...whatever.

Mom sent a text to Dad: We have tears.

Vomit

My mom, like her Mom, and hers before that have an abundance of very rich food. Seriously, it's like consuming mass quantities of milkshake every time I eat. Om nom nom nom. Because of this, I have decided that a touch of bulimia may in deed, help me keep my boy-ish figure. (not really, don't report Mom to the services, please) So, the day before the 2 week anniversary of my super awesome fantastical exit from Mom's 'gina, I decided that I'd take after her, in her infancy, and projectile vomit...everywhere. Seemingly, everything I eat revisits the outside of my body, shortly after being nom'd. Mom says it looks like jizz. I'm not sure what that is, but I'm sure it's fun.

In advance, you're welcome Mom, Dad, Grandma, Grandpa, people who come to see me, other people who's houses we visit, couch, floor, chair, desk, rug, table, car seat, swing, bouncy seat, clean and dirty clothing, changing pad, bed, bassinet, and anyone/thing else that I may have missed, but won't be missing in the near future.

I'm Model, You Know What I Mean

(Photo Courtesy of Stephanie Campion 3/20/11)

Mom's friend Stephanie and her daughter, whom I will someday lust after because she'll be an almost cougar but still more like a jaguar when I'm in college, came over to both take in my awesome manly musk (aka sweet baby smells) and some photographs. Yes, I know that's a run-on sentence, however, I haven't been to school to be "unlearned" yet so, in the words of my Mom, "I do what I want."

Now, Stephanie is like Mom's favorite photographer. She's done her Trash The Dress AND Maternity shots, both turning out the utmost of fantastic.
Anyway, back to me. Miss Stephanie took the following photos- which I thought you'd like to look at while the video to my theme song is playing. You're welcome.


(Photos Courtesy of Stephanie Campion 3/20/11)


Photos (except actual photo of Stephanie and Lea) taken by Stephanie Campion
All Rights Reserved.