Negotiating the Swing

I had forgotten what it means to be the parent of a newborn. For one thing, it means bouncing your little one everywhere. And, at least for me, when my little girl is on my lap, my legs are in permanent vibrate mode. It's all about keeping her from crying and for some reason they respond well to vibrating legs.

There are more advanced feats, however, but these aren't for the faint of heart. I accomplished one of them this evening and was so proud of myself you'd swear I'd just passed the bar all over again. This task requires the delicate hands of a surgeon, the wisdom of Solomon, and the patience of that guy from Edgar Allen Poe's "The Tell Tale Heart" who spent an entire hour creeping into the bedroom of the man he decided to kill. The challenge? Moving a sleeping baby from your arms to the swing while keeping her asleep.

The first requirement is to get the child to sleep, which as I alluded to previously requires an awful lot of bouncing, and with Emily, bouncing while walking around the room (she's often not content to be seated). I perfected the arm position with Jared, having Emily lie on her stomach on my forearm, with the lower part of my palm applying a small amount of pressure to her stomach (for burping purposes).

(Try to ignore the half-eaten fudgcicle)

Once she falls asleep, there are decisions to make: Where do we try to put her down? Is she asleep enough to be put down? Who has to deal with her if the attempt fails? How do you deal with the parent who ends up having the take the baby when the attempt fails? Just how lucky are you feeling?

I came to that point this evening, and decided I'd try to put her in the swing. When the maneuver is succesfully done, Emily will continue to sleep for hours rocking back and forth. One false move, though, and her eyes open up, she spends a few minutes contently looking around, and then starts to wail.

There are obstacles too. For instance, one has to figure out how to put Emily in the swing, keep her sleeping peacefully, while strapping her in to the swing. Try to be too hasty and she wakes up almost immediately. Instead, to be successful, she must be rocked in the swing while strapping her in, which requires a coordination that can perhaps only be acquired through hours and hours of playing video games.

The speed of the swing also has to be right, and then you have to figure out what to do about head support, lest the little one start flopping her head around and wake up.

Tonight I managed to negotiate all of those elements succesfully, seamlessly transferring Emily in her slumbering state into the swing. Behold!



[great, I spoke too soon...I forgot to put a blanket on her legs, she startled a few times, and woke up. Curse that startle reflex!]

Jury Duty for Lawyers

God is not without a sense of irony: I've been called for jury duty.

The way things work in California is that I got a summons nearly a month ago. It came with a questionnaire to fill out (basically asking me what my job is) and send back, and then call a number they provided on the date provided to receive further instructions.

I spent little time thinking about it, since I have always figured that as soon as anyone discovered I was a lawyer it would be a near automatic exclusion from jury service -- especially given the kind of work I do.

I thought so little about it that Friday morning I made some specific plans to visit San Diego this Tuesday and take the day off. After I got home from work last night, however, and called the number I was simply told this: Call back Monday after 5 p.m. and we'll let you know whether you need to show up Tuesday.

Umm...great. I'm baffled at why, in the initial summons, they couldn't give any idea of a date range for which their services might be required. Is that too much to ask? Perhaps I should've known better, but I had absolutely NO idea when calling last night that I would potentially need to clear my schedule the next week. I figured we were talking sometime in August, which shows how little I know about what goes on behind the scenes to get jurors into a courtroom.

At any rate, I've got to change my San Diego plans now. I suppose I'll find out Monday whether they're going to make me show up Tuesday.

Odds, Ends, and Invaders

I awoke early this morning to find intruders in our home. They seemed to be looking for something to steal. Michelle and I acted quickly, before the intruders discovered Jared (or worse, before Jared discovered them). She scouted them and then I applied the bug spray. Good bye horde of ants hoping for a free meal! (my suspicion is they were after my remaining bag of Peanut M&Ms – I mean, what more could an ant hope for?)

Here’s what else you’ve missed these past few weeks:

• Somehow, and for some strange reason, the instructor during our Elder’s Quorum lesson two weeks ago decided to hold up the Forbidden Donut (without any prior for warning) as a shining example of what Wilford Woodruff spoke of on keeping journals. Umm…yeah…right. I’ve been the subject of Elder’s Quorum derision ever since, and now people are asking for my Peanut M&Ms (For those interested: 10 bags left. Since I started with 20, and since eating 10 bags of M&Ms in such a short period of time is a bit alarming even to me, this has prompted several subsequent, broken commitments to two weeks of detox. I started again today!)


• Speaking of Peanut M&Ms, Jared apparently didn’t feel like he was getting his share, and so amassed an army to gain control of the remaining bags:

He failed.

• A certain creature in our home has made blogging (and pretty much everything else) impossible. I’ve managed a few pictures.

(And of course the always popular frog pose)


Hopefully she’ll let me resume my frivolous posting soon.

Super Disappointment

Superman Returns opened this weekend, and I was desperate enough last night that I snuck* out by myself to see it.  I’ve never been to a movie alone, and it wasn’t supposed to be so last night.  When my friend flaked, though, I was still quite anxious to see it. So I braved it alone. Not even my Peanut M&Ms to keep me company – I’ve sworn off sugar for two weeks.

My loneliness, however, was easily overcome by my excitement for the movie.

Ah, but I left the movie disappointed, and I started to sense this from the beginning.  For one, Brandon Routh seems far too young to be taking on the role of Superman – at least not without beginning the whole series over again (and this one takes place five years after Superman II).

Routh, too, hardly has the charisma Christopher Reeve did.  His attempts at humor as Superman (which Reeve pulled off so well) felt stiff and forced, and his take on Clark Kent terribly bland.  He looks the part (though a bit young), but that’s about it.

I was sorely missing Gene Hackman too.  His Lex Luthor was loveably evil – conniving but still endearing.  Kevin Spacey’s Lex Luthor is just plain mean.

A few other major problems I have with the movie (which, if you are aching to see the movie and not have it spoiled, you might want to avoid – though in the several reviews I’ve read I’m not revealing any more of the plot than they did, or than the trailers do):

• How is it that Superman’s suit is apparently impervious to bullets at one point (bouncing of his chest and making no marks, tears, or scratches on the suit), and then later, while Superman is exposed to Kryptonite, Lex Luthor is able to take a piece of Kryptonite and stab Superman – through the suit?  Shouldn’t the suit still be impenetrable? Or are we supposed to understand that the suit loses its properties too when exposed to Kryptonite?  Am I the only one who thinks about this and sees the contradiction?


• So apparently, as a result of what happened in Superman II, Lois Lane had Superman’s baby.  And she knows it was Superman’s.  But, at the end of Superman II, Superman kissed Lois that had the fortunate effect of making her forget everything that had taken place (i.e. She discover’s Clark Kent’s true identity, they fall in love, he takes her to the fortress of solitude and gives up his powers for her, then has to take them back).  Because of this, it doesn’t make sense that she would know who the father is if it was Superman.

Perhaps this is quibbling to the rest.  The movie still has its exciting moments, and if pressed I’d say I’m happier having seen it than if I hadn’t seen it.  That seems to be the least possible good one can say about a movie, though, and I was aching to enjoy it at least as much as I enjoyed Batman Begins.

* Of course, I didn’t literally “sneak” out – I had permission – as long as I vacuumed the living room first.