Dreams to Remember and Crap You Don't Need

I've received a flood of emails and carrier pigeon letters asking about Daughter. Here is an update.

Monday night, I had this really fucked up dream. I took Daughter to some sort of Puritanical outdoor wedding on a meadow. She was somewhat fussy, as I assume she also doesn't appreciate the strictures of organized religion, so we walked towards the back of the ceremony (which was still a while from starting). Some Puritan woman who looked like Chloe Sevigny's character from Big Love kept asking to hold Daughter, and I kept being all, "Chill out, ankle-length dress, I don't know you from Adam" (presumably referring to my friend Adam). There was something off about her. Anyway, eventually Daughter puked. This must have had some meaning in the Puritan world because the woman said something like, "Now it's my turn to hold her." She grabbed one of Daughter's arms. I pushed her hand away and clutched Daughter, then flew (yes, flew) swiftly to the front of the ceremony, where I came face-to-face with a priest who was sitting in one of the chairs in the second row. He had demon eyes and jagged teeth, like that creepy old lady in the trailer for Legion. I stared him in the eyes and let out a primal, guttural howl -- one of those yells that felt so real that I was sure I was actually yelling in my sleep -- to indicate that none of these evil beings would be handling Daughter. Then I woke up, only to realize it hadn't been a dream at all.

From day one, I've made it clear to Daughter that insolence will not be tolerated. For the most part, she has fallen in line. I don't know if it's the codeine or what, but she is sleeping really well. I am not, however, as I am inclined to watch Daughter sleep and, well, I am having night terrors about demons trying to steal my baby. I have no idea why or how Daughter is sleeping for 6+ hours at night, but I don't question it, since I have been told by many a people that I am very lucky.

She appears to be smiling more often, but her smiles are often followed by flatulence. Like father like daughter.

She kicks just as much on the outside as on the inside. She can kick herself in the face.

Sometimes she gets flaps of skin that hang down from her lips, caused by feeding. When that happens, we refer to her as Bunnicula. It's frustrating because she doesn't get the reference.

In less than four weeks on the planet, she has already played in as many NCAA championship games as every Purdue men's basketball player ever.

Her ability to pull exposed chest hair is progressing at an alarming rate.

Here are a couple other notes and observations for new or soon-to-be parents:
-The Diaper Genie is worthless. Our friend Kelly gave us her old Diaper Genie and told us it sucked. We didn't listen and tried it out anyway. It does suck. A garbage can with a lid does the same job.
-Huggies are better than Pampers at preventing shit and piss from leaking out the sides of the diaper and through a onesie and onto an adult's shirt.
-A changing pad cover is a waste of otherwise usable fabric. Our changing pad has a waterproof soft plasticky surface. For some reason, we bought a pink fuzzy cover for the pad. After the second time Daughter peed on it while being changed, we realized our mistake and burned the cover.
-We have received as gifts two "Rockabye Baby" CDs, which respectively include instrumental lullaby versions of Beatles and Queen songs. They work pretty well at soothing Daughter, as you might expect. There are many other artists as well. I might have to get the GNR, Ramones, Zeppelin, and Metallica CDs. I'd love to hear a lullaby rendition of "Mr. Brownstone."