Saturday Morning Pancakes (cont.)

I have found that Google's Reader doesn't like it when I go back and edit prior posts, so I will simply start a new entry. Va bene?

Every Saturday since the birth of the beloved hot tub of my gene pool, I have gotten up early (around noon) and made pancakes for Megan and I. It may seem unfair that Matilda cannot participate, but don't worry, I shake up a little Bisquick in one of her bottles. Keep the ratio the same as that of baby formula, add just a drop or two of syrup, a tablespoon of butter (babies need their fat), and voila! Liquid babycakes are a meal fit for baby royalty*.

*I hereby declare that my mention of liquid babycakes is farcical. If a reader is dumb enough to actually try this and harm comes of it, I take no responsibility, legal or otherwise. Your reading of this statement constitutes your acceptance thereof.

Weeks 1-2 - Powdered pancake mix. I have since forsworn this kind of pancakery. It is expensive, boring, and the end product delighteth not my tongue like unto other made-from-scratch-thereof recipes. If you are allergic to effort and must buy a mix, I recommend the Chappawhodapoopie Falls. It's the best mix I have ever had. Another great variation is to take the pancake mix, add a couple thinly sliced bananas and some cinnamon, then cook as normal.

Week 3 - German Pancakes. This delightful little number hails from the mountain regions of Deutchland. Baron Von Paken Kakken IV, Jr., had had just about enough of sauerkraut and blood sausage for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. One morning, after the krauty aroma waftily wafted into his hairy Slavic nostrils, something snapped. Normally a mild-mannered Baron, he flipped. He ran around the family farm shaking and squeezing the livestock in his intense gastronomic frustrations. After a short while (Paken Kakken was, short, flat, and a bit of a chub chub) he sat to rest and began to observe the carnage left in his wake. Shaking the chicken had produced a smallish white orb. Squeezing the cow left behind a pool of creamy liquid. Punching Mr. Cinnamon in the mouth left behind a dusting of sweet brown dust. And there were lots of pretty flowers (Baron got distracted easily by beauty). He mixed them all together, threw the batter in the Dutch Oven he had recently bought in neighboring Dutchyland, and about 30 minutes later the thing looked like it was trying to escape. Growing up with wolves had left him with some wild instincts (and a little social awkwardness), and so in his state of fight-or-flight he decided to bite the thing into submission. Luckily, the concoction wasn't alive (he wasn't nearly the genius his cousin Frankenstein was). But it was frightfully delicious! German Paken Kakkens (later shortened to pancakes at an Ellis Island eatery) had made their debut.

Week 4 - French Toast & Nun Puffs (another story for another day)

Week 5 - Buttermilk Pancakes from scratch.

Weeks 6-7 - Murphy's Stopped Water Flapjacks. Why the name? Well, I call them "Stopped Water Flapjacks" because they're damned good. Seriously. I don't have time to include the recipe now, but I will later. Normally I would not share such a valuable secret, but I figure that since I probably offended many of you with their name, I can placate your fractured feelings with through your tummy. That's why they have been around for two weeks, and are making a strong case for an unprecedented third. And just so you can prepare your conscience, anyone who wants to use the recipe when I post it will have to swear a syrup oath to preserve the name "Murphy's Stopped Water Pancakes".

Two weeks ago was especially enjoyable because I got to spend the entire morning alone with Matilda. I'm not kidding myself, I know that majority of bloggers, ergo my readers, are women, so women take note! Men need alone-time with the baby. You got nine months with them. They have the father snip the umbilical cord for a reason. It be daddy time. So on said Saturday the 20th of September, I stole zee baybee! I stoled it frahm a stoo-pid taikhini (sp?)! After loading the stroller with all the necessary supplies, Tilly and I went for a walk to Smith's whilst Megan slumbered. Luckily, she was as content as could be as we strolled around and I got all the necessary ingredients.

I admit, I was nervous venturing out into public with an infant and no milk available from me to calm her should I need to. (FYI, my original version of the preceding sentence was much more funny, but since I already offended you once, I decided against using the boob word). But it was great! Really a meaningful bonding experience. "It is as we nakedly venture into our most vulnerable situations that we find ourselves clothed with the experiences upon which a life is built." - Sean Patrick Murphy, 2008.

Unfortunately, I bought too much stuff. I knew I did not have a car, but that sure did not stop me from getting enough crap to break a camel's back, even without straw. Being a bearded man means I'm tough, though, so I hefted it home. An hour later, after the feeling and color returned to my appendages, I got out the cookbook and experimented a bit.

Murphy's Stopped Water Flapjacks were born.

And now a few a bit on Matilda. She is stopped water AMAZING! Best baby ever. Hasn't gotten sick. Sleeps for 6-7 hours a night in her crib. Doesn't spit up. Isn't fussy. Makes great eye contact and follows objects well with her eyes. Can reach out to grab faces and objects that are close enough. Coos constantly. And much to the extreme happiness of Megan and I, she has begun smiling at us. Not that weird baby twitching that looks like a smile. This morning she had been awake for 15 minutes or more when I got in her line of vision and our eyes met. We held each other's gaze for 10-15 seconds, then she smiled a big, genuine smile. She loves her daddy. My heart melted. I love you too, Matilda. I also love my wife, Megan, without whom none of this wonderful life would have happened.

Smiley in polka dots...

...and in her flowery blue dress
I have this picture as the background on my laptop.

Enough with the pictures! *PUNCH*

Check out the definition in those arms. She may be little, but she could take you. Seriously. But you can't take her. She's mine. And that would be kidnapping.

Saturday Morning Pancakes

This post will be about Saturday morning pancakes. I will write it tonight at our internet-less home, then post it tomorrow morning. For now, enjoy a few pictures of Matilda.

Playing in the Bumbo Babysitter. She doesn't like it much. Maybe once she actually fits in it she'll like it more.

Cross-eyed on the couch. Nothing more to say.

She likes to fall asleep while I read her Harry Potter in Italian.

You remind me of the babe. What babe?
The babe with the power. What power?
The power of voodoo. Who do?
You do. Do what?
Remind me of the babe.

Tilly doing a little Tae-Bo to David Bowie.

Another one of those weird things that Matilda likes to do. She is exceedingly strong for a 7-week old. I have the bruises to prove it.

More to come...

Blame it on Aida

These last couple weeks have been filled with preparations for Aida, which opens next Tuesday, September 23rd, at the Hale Center Theater Orem. For those of you who don't know, the Hale Center Foundation for the Arts and Education, of which HCTO is a part, is my employer. My official title is Director of Advancement, and as such I am in charge of all the marketing, advertising, special events, fund raising, sponsorships, philanthropy, communications, publicity, etc. Along with that comes the dubious honor of working to produce a quality playbill for each show. This includes writing sections about the history of the show, the authors/composers of the show, and the history behind the setting of the show. I'm also responsible for proofing the grammer and legibility of all other written material and ads in the playbill. It can be kind of a daunting task, but I enjoy it.

For all of you local yokels, you definitely need to come and see the show! Why? 1) So you can get your own copy of my published writings. 2) Because it will be one of the best shows ever produced in Utah Valley. I'm not kidding on this. We've got top talent, top music, top costumes, lighting, effects, etc. And if you ask really nice, I might just be able to offer you some kind of discount. As a teaser, here is the piece that I wrote about the history of Aida and its most recent authors/composers:

From Shakespeare’s “star cross’d” Romeo and Juliet to Wagner’s Tristan and Isolde, from Austen’s Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet to Brontë’s Jane Eyre and Edward Rochester, forbidden love never fails to capture the attention and hearts of all. Elton John and Tim Rice’s Aida takes the same theme—love between a Nubian princess and an Egyptian heir to the Pharaoh’s throne—and wraps it in a rapturous rock-musical score, immersing the audience in the woes and heartbreak of their plight and the dire consequences of what a decision to transcend the easy road and submit to true love would mean. Unlike Romeo and Juliet’s tragic finale, there is a ray of hope gleaming off the Egyptian hieroglyphs for our protagonists. Perhaps Westly from The Princess Bride expressed the sentiment best when he said, “Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.”

But the road to Broadway—and more importantly to the Hale Center Theater Orem—was not short for Aida. It began in 1869 with Giuseppe Verdi when the Khedive of Egypt wanted to commission Verdi to write an opera worthy of Egypt’s theaters. Verdi refused twice, but after reading an outline for Aida his interest was piqued and he agreed to the task. Egyptologist Mariette Bey is generally credited with the original story.

Aida opened to universal acclaim on Christmas Eve in Cairo and Milan in 1871. At one point in the opera over 300 performers (and a few elephants) were on stage. The theater in Cairo only sat 600 people! Verdi’s Aida remains popular around the world to this day. It has also been remade over twenty times for television and the big screen. In 1998, Elton John and Tim Rice collaborated to bring you the version of Aida that you are enjoying tonight.

Elton John – Born in Middlesex, England, in 1947, John took up the piano at the age of four and continued throughout his youth, later honing his skills at the Royal Academy of Music. Although his first few years in the industry were rough, once he produced hits like “Your Song” and “Rocket Man”, he hit the top of the charts and stayed in orbit for over 30 years. His rewritten version of “Candle in the Wind” remains the biggest-selling single of all time. In 1998, in honor of his contributions to charity and the arts, the Queen of England knighted John, bestowing the title of Sir Elton John CBE.

John first teamed up with Tim Rice for Disney’s 1990 film and 1997 Broadway Musical The Lion King, and has since worked with him on The Road to El Dorado and of course Aida, which won the 2000 Tony® Award for Best Score.

Aida presented John with a challenge unique to his prior experience, writing a full-length musical directly for the stage. Although he found the project daunting, says John of Aida, “It’s a beautiful, complex love story, where bigotry and hatred are swept out the window, and love, compassion, forgiveness, and understanding triumph. In this day and age, I’m a great believer in the human spirit triumphing over evil in any way.”

Tim Rice – Although he began his career as a lawyer, in 1965, at the age of 21, Rice teamed up with the 17-year-old Andrew Lloyd Webber as a lyricist, and together they went on to create such monumental Broadway musicals as Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat and Evita. He also worked with Benny Andersson and Bjorn Ulvaeus of Abba fame to create the 1986 musical Chess and contributed to Disney’s Aladdin after the passing of Howard Ashman midway through production. He also contributed to the original music added to the stage version of Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, and won three separate Academy Awards® for Best Music, Original Song. Rice also received British Knighthood in 1994.

Of Aida, Rice says, “When you approach the creation of a new musical, the story is the most important thing, and we begin with one of the great ones. If you can add a wonderful score, you have a really good chance of coming up with a great show.”

There you have it. And I blame the show for now posting last week or until now this week. Not that I feel like I have any sort of ah-blog-ation to any of you (yuk yuk yuk). Just wanted to be open with you. That's what healthy relationships are about, isn't it? Openness? Communication?

And now for an update of my daughter, who is now over 5 weeks! She has begun sleeping for 5-6 hour stretches at night, and has 1-2 major ppd (poops per day). She can hold her head up for 30-45 second stretches, and at our best estimates tips the scales at 7.5 lbs, 23 inches. She loves having staring contests and will follow you with her eyes if you move around. She'll also start looking around when she hears Mommy or Daddy's voice. And when she has also learned the feeding position and pillow so that when the two combine, her mouth is open and head is shaking from side to side just waiting for a drink. Sometimes I like to put the Boppy pillow on my lap and put her in "the position", just to tease. My teasing is age-blind. I don't want to get slapped with an age-ism suit, you know. So yes, I do tease my 5-week old. And speaking of feeding, this child could out eat me in the evening. Megan will just finish feeding her and she's hungry again. Another 30 min and she's hungry again. 10 minutes later and she's gotta eat. Pacifiers won't do it. Nothing calms her except food. Maybe that's why she sleeps so long.

Favorite Songs:
Braham's Lullaby (Mom)
A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief (Mom)
Elephant Love Medley (Mom & Dad)
Waltzing Matilda (Dad)
Your Song (Dad)
The Mockingbird Song (Dad - with improvised objects bought - i.e. ball of twine, humming bird, toilet seat, etc)
I Believe in a Thing Called Love (Dad)
Beethoven's Seventh Symphony - Allegretto (iPod)
Stronger (instrumental version - no lyrics) by Kanye West - (iPod)

And now for some pics!

Tilly can't believe I've got the camera out again.

I pledge allegience, to my dad...

Daddy, Tilly, and Thing taking a nap

A good profile shot of our tightly bundled baby holding her head up.

Matilda on her one month birthday!

One too many flashes. Just kidding, she always makes this face.

This one, however, was a first. Not sure what inspired it.

Happy and cute, just like a one-month old should be.

Taking an interest in the rattle Mommy bought her.

...and she's done. Probably hungry. She always is.

Separate and Unequal

So the time has come to part ways. I keep feeling the urge to express my opinion about how I really don't like Palin (lipstick, anyone?) or McCain. I want to talk about how stupid people bother me. I want to make humorous references to poo. I want to go off on whatever tangents I feel like. I don't think I would, but if I ever felt like writing incendiary commentaries, I would like to do so without having it post right next to a picture of my beautiful daughter or lovely wife.

So in the words of Sir Winston Churchill, "I took the road less traveled." And as per Ghandi's definition of a real man, I kept my head while all around me were losing theirs.*

I did the unthinkable and started a blog for myself.

Don't worry, I'll still post regularly here, but for those of you who have been offended, fret no more. If you want to continue to take offense, follow the link... but not today. There's nothing posted there yet. Give me a day or two, okay? Thanks.

http://seanpatrickmurphy.wordpress.com

*And if you were planning on correcting my quotations. Don't bother. I know that both are found in the New Testament. I just wanted to see who was bright enough to pick up on it.

Silly Tilly

All parents know that babies are capable of some pretty good faces. I'm glad to find out that ours is no exception. My question is this: Are all babies so gassy? I mean she got a bum deal (pun intended) on the gassy genes from ol' mum and pops, but seriously, she rivals me sometimes. Lots of good stories for any unfortunate suitors that may try and date my daughter. And to that end, I've recently joined the NRA. 16 years should be enough for me to develop a decent shot.

Enjoy the pics.

Matilda on her 2 week birthday.

The happy sleeper

Her first bath. She doesn't really know what to think.

Still unsure about this submergence in water.

Safe and warm in her turtle towel.

The following photos are all from a photo-shoot I did of her wearing her first dress to Church last Sunday, August 31.

And then I tried to do one in her crib yesterday (September 4) which she didn't enjoy as much.

Megan said that Tilly is the only person she knows who is grumpier than I am when hungry.

One minute after the feeding...

Two minutes after the feeding

Did I mention Matilda is going to be famous? They cast her in High School Musical 3. She's the new new girl who steals every scene. Chaos ensues, but all is resolved in a nice musically cheesy package.

Tilly the Weed and Wallpaper Mayhem

Chapter 1: Masochistic Nurses and Weed-like Growth

I wanted to stab their heels with ice picks and make them bleed all over sheets of paper. Hasn’t my daughter suffered enough coming into this world? Do we really need to prick her heels every time she exposes them? Next time, I think I’ll use luggage locks to make her baby booties irremovable, except that would probably just exacerbate the problem as they’d just find some other open pasture of skin to mine for red gold. Darn nurses and their testing.

I know. I know. It’s all necessary and modern medicine is such a blessing and all these discomforts will in the end help preserve Tilly’s health, but is it not a justifiable reaction to want to sock it to people who make infants bleed? Especially my own? I even forgot my own address while trying to fill out the forms while Li’l Til wailed. I have never heard her so upset. I’ve rarely been so upset. I think the last time was when my brother erased my game on Zelda: Ocarina of Time. Happy two-week birthday to you! Happy two-week birthday to you! We’re going to stab your heel while you’re naked and force you to hemorrhage on sheets of paper! Happy two-week birthday to you!

*Sigh* Sorry…

So today was Matilda Murphy’s two-week birthday and appointment. I think we’ll throw a little party tomorrow to celebrate and also her shouldabeen birthday. Oh, and to celebrate her umbilical cord stump falling off too! (We're going to bury it under the light of a blue harvest moon in January while facing South-West and singing "God Save the Queen", then plant a Huckleberry bush above. I heard from a crazy three-eyed old woman living under a bridge that we should do that.) All things considered, it was a great appointment. All the nurses commented on how cute her name is and how beautiful she is. Lots of people have told us how babies are supposed to be funny-looking, but how her eyes, ears, nose, and everything are just beautiful. She goes a little cross-eyed sometimes, but that’s usually only when we’re having a funny face contest.

Birth Height & Weight – 5 lbs 2 oz, 18 inches

Two Week Height & Weight – 5 lbs 13 oz, 20.5 inches

What a little weed! Everybody was amazed, the doctor especially, at how much she had grown and at how much weight she had gained! He said that she’s right where she would have been had she stayed in utero for the extra 15 days. She’s now in the 25^th percentile for height but still under the 5^th percentile for weight. It’s too bad we live so far away from her cousin Drew-Bob (8 lbs 10 oz, 19.5 inches) because I would really love to get a picture of them together. I think I can do a little photo-comparison though. Yup, here it is.

Andrew Robert Ruden (August 17)(Left)
Matilda Rose Murphy (August 12)(Right)

Tilly (Left) and Drew Bob (Right)

Aren’t babies cute?

Matilda has been wonderful! She loves being held and given attention by all her aunts and uncles and even strangers. She’s always so aware and loves looking around. It may just be a random reflex, but sometimes when I go to the side opposite of the way she’s facing and start talking, she’ll turn her head to look at me. She’s amazingly strong and has almost propelled herself off my lap with those skinny little frog legs. And she finally fits into her newborn clothes too! They still drown her a bit in the width, but the height is just right. I can’t wait to see how she grows, but at the same time, I want to be able to fit her curled up little self on my chest or in one arm forever.

Chapter 2: Woebegone Wall Coverings

But alas, no matter how I’d like to just sit and watch her grow all day, there is work to be done and there are projects to be completed. One such project was stripping wallpaper in our bathroom last Saturday. Our ceilings are probably about 10 feet tall in the bathroom, and when we moved in, the lower 2/3 was a blood red and the top 1/3 was golden wallpaper with a fleur-de-lis pattern, designed by Ugg Lee. The week before Matilda arrived we painted the bottom 2/3 and last Saturday I tackled the top. The process took six hours and I hope to high heaven that I’m rich enough to pay someone else to do it the next time I need it done. It went as follows:

Mix wallpaper removal solution. Sponge solution all over room. Wait 15 minutes. Sponge again. Wait again. Sponge again and attempt to remove. Realize that it hasn’t worked a lick. Go complain to Megan and hold Tilly to calm down. Go tear off top layer of all wallpaper leaving white backing. Soap backing. Wait 15 minutes. Soap again. Wait again. Soap and remove. Still not working. Go to Megan and Tilly. Doesn’t quite pacify as well. Go back and get catty with wallpaper, attacking it with fingernails and spittle. Realize I’m on to something. Have Megan get me a plastic spoon and a water bottle, then spend the next four hours scraping each inch of a very awkwardly situated top three feet of the wall with a spoon (breaking three spoons and bruising both hands, and both feet in the process). But it’s done and I want to stab whoever put up the wallpaper in the heel with an ice pick. Not just because it was a beast to remove, but also because it was the exact same color as the paint underneath! Was the fleur-de-lis pattern really that important? Hopefully by next weekend it will be white.

Next project, fixing the floor in the bathroom. For some reason the toilet is sunk two inches into the floor. No overweight people are currently allowed to use the toilet in our house, although I’m trying to rig up a brace for them.

Chapter 3: Felicitous Realignment

It seems like I’ve been a little negativo in this edition of my bloggery, so I’ll try to restore the cosmic karmic balance by talking about some things that I’m really happy about, like Matilda’s room! I’m really excited for her to move in there from the bassinet in our room, not only for the better sleep, but so she can enjoy the awesomeness that is her room! It has 12-foot ceilings, we’re going to paint a few walls green soon, and all sorts of cool stuff.

After a long and exhausting search for cool and affordable baby bedding, Megan found this stuff from Target – DwellStudio Circles collection. We’ve had it all for about four months now and have all their receiving blankets, blankets, a Boppy Pillow cover, pillows, etc. Megan also found this great diaper bag that doesn’t even look like one! It’s all very cute and we were stoked about our baby’s original “crib”. It didn't take us too long to realize that people are drawn to cute and cheap, however, and soon a few other mothers had the same stuff. We were mildly nonplussed at first, but hey, it ain't the bedding that will help our baby grow up creative, intelligent, caring, happy, and perfect - it's our inimitable love that we shall shower upon her whilst in the bedding.

So enjoy the pictures of her room and tune in next week for another chapter in the lives of the Murphy Trio.

Matilda's crib and a rocking chair that Megan used as a child which her grandma recently gave back to her at her Oregon baby shower. And yes, when we dress Tilly in polka dots we can't find her.


A genuine teddy bear from the Vermont Teddy Bear Company. I grew up in Vermont and toured the factory as a grade-schooler and so I had to splurge for one of these.


This is Megan's teddy, Pinky, who has been with her since she was an infant. And now it's going to our daughter.


Our ever-growing collection of stuffed animals. We really like the Grannimals (to the monkey's right). The monkey, Ross Westin, is from the 5th Ave. Build-A-Bear in New York City, the pig is from the Murphy Aunts and Uncle, and the dog is from cousin Joel. The hand-painted mirror has the Three Little Pigs on it and originally cost $410. We got it and the $395 shelf (pictured below) with the Cow Jumping Over the Moon for $100 at La Bella Casa in McMinnville, OR.


The nursing corner. That yellowed newspaper is from the day she was born. We're saving it so that when Tilly is old enough she can appreciate how stupidly sentimental her parents are.


The changing table and Diaper Genie II, where all the crap goes down. I've never known a baby who pees more on the changing mat than in her diapers. Now I do. And I thought it was only boys who did that.

Matilda Rose Murphy - Born 08.12.08 - Revised, Updated, and Complete

You know what my problem is? I'm a perfectionist. Sometimes I don't feel like I can or should write until I have the time to make it something truly worth reading; something that will edify, inspire, educate, or at least entertain those whose eyes glance over it. This has resulted in a drastic decline of those who frequent this blog because with all that has been going on lately, for me to enshrine each moment in a masterpiece of prose just asks too much. Ergo, no recent posts.

But now I'm falling into the cliché of assuming that there are myriads of folks with nothing better to do than read my prattling, and when I don't post for a week they'll go out and start banging their heads on a wall until I post again.

So without further ado, I present the story of Matilda Rose Murphy. Updates about our new house, my first marathon, and our trip to San Francisco may or may not ever appear. Just know that those things happened and went dandily.

Last Monday, August 11, was my sister Megan's birthday. This is significant because for a while after Megan Rose and I started dating, Megan sister was mad because of the shared name deal. It has since evolved into a series of jokes about "what if..." scenarios, including my only other brother, James, briefly dating a girl named Megan. So at dinner that night, we all laughed about how Megan sister would flip a gourd if Megan wife gave birth on her birthday... two gourds if we named our daughter Megan. Only then will we have then completed our twofold hostile mission 1) Take over of her identity, and 2) Cause the total inversion of two squashes. We all had a good laugh about this. What we failed to tell them was that Megan wife had been enjoying contractions every five minutes for about 12 hours. I say "enjoying" and while they may not have been entirely pleasant, they were not causing extreme discomfort yet.

That started about midnight.

And even then, the level of discomfort wasn't horrible. I could feel something was about to go down (literally... well... go down literally, not that I could literally feel it), so I tried my best to clean up our house, specifically the baby's room. For those of you who for some reason don't know each intricate detail of our lives, we moved into a new house about a month ago. We were to the point where there were just a few piles of random crap sitting around, but it was outcast crap. It was the kind of stuff where you wish you could just throw it away, but due to some sentimental attachment, you can't. But it needs to be organized if you're going to keep it. But that would take too much time. So it sits there and taunts you with the cheesy chains that it has wrapped around your pack rattish neck.

In the meantime, Megan packed a suitcase for the hospital and kept moving since that helped with the pain. The contractions kept getting longer and harder, so she took a bubble bath in our beautiful and luxuriously large claw-foot tub. In a gesture of selflessness, I shaved her legs. Her insides were trying to pass a human being to the outside, so really it was the least I could do. I made it through without cutting her, but admittedly that's probably because she did her knees herself.

At around 2:00 AM, I got really tired and fell asleep. Poor me. About 4:00 AM Megan woke me up with those surreal words, "We need to go to the hospital."

In the immortal words of Strong Bad, "Holy crap, man."

Every first-time father will know the feeling. Today is the day that I become the next generation.

I was torn between a desire to go out and swear, express flatulences, and hit things with sticks so that I got all misbehavin' out of my system leaving only good parenting techniques and a feeling of elation at the thought that I'd be able to teach my own posterity to do all those things once my own resolve not to do them waned. Everything except swearing. If my kids ever let past their lips even one damn swear word...

5:00 AM - Surreality continues. We check into the hospital. I take the following picture. I'm sorry Megan, but it has to be included because our loving public demands it. Don't you, guys? What an adorable little preggy Meggy. It's the last surviving photo of mother and daughter as one.



As soon as the nurse found out that we were first timers and that this was our first time to the hospital, she rolled her eyes. I'm sure she expected to find Megan overreacting and that she would have to sit us down, relay the bad news that it's still premature, and send us home until Megan was really in labor. Little did she know how tough my wife is. She ended up measuring 5.5 cm, which is over halfway to the point where they'd have her start pushing! (Quick crash course in labor and delivery for you single guys and gals out there: 0-1 cm = Baby ain't goin' nowhere. 2-4 cm = Attention ground control, entry phase initiated. 5-9 cm = She'll be comin' 'round [down] the mountain [birthing canal] when she comes [right now]. 10 cm = Holy crap, man. Mamma's ready to start pushin'.)*

*The aforementioned crash course has no medical validity whatsoever. They are the sleep-deprived observations of a first-time father.

We had decided to go without an epidural, and so after getting Megan hooked up to all the machines which would monitor the baby and mommy, we settled into a routine. As I saw the contraction coming, I would warn Megan and she'd start moving. She'd look right into my eyes and do whatever it took to lessen the pain. When I saw that the contraction had peaked on the monitor, I would tell Megan so that she knew the end was in sight.

The contractions got stronger and stronger, but after her water was broken, they got really intense. I cannot even fathom the pain involved in the process, but I love and appreciate my mother for enduring it to bring me here and my wife for going through it for our baby. About an hour after having her water broken we decided to ask for an epidural. There was no shame in it. Megan had experienced the pain of childbirth au natural in about its most extreme form. And by the time the got the epidural going, she was already at 8.5 cm. She nearly made it! To her credit, she never screamed at me or cursed me for having done this to her or anything like that. No shoes were thrown across the room or curses placed upon me. The whole process really brought us closer together and deeper in love. She was just in the most intense pain she'd ever know, but knew it was all for the good of bringing life into the world.

The first few contractions with the epidural were probably the worst experience of her life. They have to hook you up to all sorts of monitors to make sure your blood pressure doesn't drop too much and that mother and baby stay safe thereby effectively annulling Megan's ability to assuage pain by moving about. Those were the hardest for me to watch. But the end was in sight. (Megan's was too thanks to the lovely hospital gowns. Good thing it's so cute.) After two really criminal contractions, the drugs kicked in and Megan was a happier camper. Megan's sister Allison, her son Samson, and my Mamma Jill were there by then, so life was good. Even though only about 11 months old, Sambo would have a whole new outlook on life by the time the day was over.

By about 9 AM Megan was fully dilated and ready to start pushing, but our doctor was in surgery assisting with a lobotomy or something like that. Aller dem mederkal werds iz perty much soundin' dersaym ter me. So Megan rested and descended, but since there was not much change in Megan's elevation, I'm guessing that means she rests whilst the bambino descends. About this time, the epidural wore off (since it was not continuous) and the anesthesiologist was out to lunch. I could have knocked his teeth out! It took him over 20 minutes (a long time for contractions coming every 3 minutes) to get there and up the dosage. I have a good mind to sneak into the hospital when he's getting a vasectomy and replace the anesthesia with water. Or maybe invent a fluid that enhances pain and put that in there. Heh heh heh.

10:25 AM - Push time! This is where nurse grabs a leg and I grabs a leg and nature has a good laugh at this process she's derived of having mothers push a big something through a little something. It's a slow process, but from what I hear, most have it a lot slower. By about 10:50 AM I could see the first part of the baby's scalp. Heaven help me, I lost it then and there. I could actually see for the first time my daughter's head and hair and birthing goo. It looked like she could just pop out at any moment, she was so close, but the doctor explained to me that what I was seeing was just a bulge in the baby's head. It's like trying to squeeze a water balloon out of a 2-liter bottle. It bulges quite a bit, but the bulk of the baby's head still has yet to come.

Side note: Good music provides the boon of a relaxing and calmer atmosphere. This is true for life in general, but especially during an intense process like labor and delivery. We tried Simon and Garfunkel, the Almost Famous soundtrack, and a few others before settling on Michael Bublé. All the nurses commented on how nice it was, and without any provocation or manipulation on my part, the music coincided with the event. For example, at the time about which I was just speaking, Señor Bublé crooned, "The Best is Yet to Come".

And come it did.

About the same time I got all bleary-teary, Megan was offered and accepted a mirror so she too could see what was going on. She would recommend this to all laboring mothers as once she could see what she was doing, it really helped her focus her energies on the process. A few other things that helped the process along were 1) the second dose of the epidural which never did take effect on Megan's right side. This helped her to feel what she was doing and move things right along. And 2) me squishing her like I was trying to hold a blanket full of picnic supplies or watermelons or anything really. This may sound weird, but again, with the epidural sometimes they (the mothers) really don't know how to push most effectively, and my pulling her knees back and shoulders forward got her in an effective position. All you natural-birthing method advocates out there are probably pooping pumpkins about how everything we did was so unnatural and so wrong and anti-gravity counterproductive and blah blah blah go kiss a duck. We have a happy and completely healthy mother and baby as a result of doing things the way we did. Now get back to tending your tofu. So there.

I previously mentioned that Ally's 11 month-old was in the delivery room the whole time. Well, he found the whole delivery process to be hilarious. When a contraction would come, Megan would go through three to four sets of pushing for ten seconds each. The nurses would say, "Okay, now deep breath, and push... 2... 3... 4... etc." until they got to 10. Well, about the second time Megan pushed, Sam started laughing and gurgling and everyone in the room was like, "What? A baby already?!" I think my mom was confused by this every time Sam did it, which was virtually every time she pushed. If you ever meet Sam, try saying, "Okay, now deep breath, and push... 2... 3... 4..." and he'll probably crack-up. Good ol' Sam.


Megan and Tilly meet for the first time, face to face.


We made a good baby.

11:18 AM - About six hours after checking in to the hospital and 45 min after pushing began, our beautiful baby girl arrived. She had her eyes open and immediately began crying. Michael Bublé was singing "Fly Me to the Moon". She's going to be an astronaut. The doctor worked to suction fluid out of her mouth and nose, and after clamping off the necessary parts, I cut the cord. I guess they have fathers do that so they can say that they helped too. She then went to the scales where our little tanker weighed in at a whopping 5 lbs 2 oz and toppled the charts at 18 inches long.


Tilly, just minutes old, already knows how to hold Daddy's hand.

Unfortunately, our as-of-yet-nameless cutie sucked in some fluid while coming out, so they did some quick exams and after giving Megan and I a moment to hold her, whisked her away to the newborn intensive care unit (NICU, pronounced nihk-you). It was really just a precautionary measure and not entirely necessary, but better safe than sorry. After an hour on a Continuous Positive Airway Pressure (CPAP) machine to help clear the fluid and 30 minutes of observation, she was cleared to go and we made our way back to Megan. After trying out a few names on her, we decided on Matilda Rose Murphy, or little Tilly. Michael Bublé was singing "Daddy's Little Girl" and I cried again. Although I was sad that Megan didn't get to spend more time with her before heading off to the NICU, I was glad for that time I had to spend with my daughter. Even though my mom was there with me and Tilly, I held Tilly's hand and talked to her nearly the whole time. I got to give her a pacifier for the first time and help her keep it in. She had her eyes wide open for nearly three hours after delivery and I was in front of them for nearly the whole time. I think they'll be brown, FYI.

The next few days blurred their way by as we tried to help Megan and Matilda establish a feeder/feedee relationship and get all the necessary immunizations/washings/whatevers out of the way. We watched the Olympics quite a bit in our room and were greeted by many well-wishers and family members. Megan's parents had left Oregon at about 11 AM and arrived about midnight, driving straight through to see their 10th grandchild. My parents and all of my brothers and sisters were there that night to celebrate the arrival of their first grandchild/niece. She was so good with all the attention. Like I already mentioned, she hardly shut her eyes! She just loved looking around, and I'll say looking at everyone even though their vision at birth is about 20/800 and everything is blurred, upside-down, and in black-and-white.


Matilda with the pink and green bows I picked out.

Much has happened since then, but little Tilly and Mommy are doing great. She's eating well, sleeping well, and pooping well. Just last night, I was changing a diaper and had just gotten her cleaned off and the diaper in the Diaper Genie II, when *poop*, out came a little puddle. I slid her back on the changing table (which was already down to just plastic since both cloth covers were being washed do to prior incidents) and picked up her legs to slide the new diaper under when *poop* all down her back. Note: trying to talk them out of pooping doesn't work.

Since Megan's parents were leaving on Monday to get back to Oregon for work and to see their 11th grandchild, Drewbob (aka Andrew Robert Ruden), first son of Dan and Annie Ruden, we decided to bless her on Sunday the 17th. Once again I cried. I just feel so lucky to be wed to such an amazing woman (who has already lost 23 lbs) and to be father to such an amazing daughter. I could stare into those beautiful eyes all day long. One of my favorite things is napping or reading out loud to her with her on my chest. She'll just cuddle right up to me. I read her the first chapter of the first Harry Potter book which I have in Italian. She may be bilingual yet! We also put on music whenever she is feeding so she'll be a musician/dancer. Talk about pressure! This girl's going to be the most talented human being in the world and she's only a week old.

I could go on and on and on, but for now I subsist. Never fear, though. I will return often and in great detail with "The Many Adventures of Tilly Rose".


A picture our sister-in-law Camie took for us after her blessing on Sunday. What a sweet little girl!