....duck.

Sure, she's said "Hi Daddy" twice now (once at 7 1/2 weeks, once over Christmas), but even though I'm counting those, they weren't, in all honesty, um, deliberate.

But after a couple of weeks of being obsessed with ducks and saying the word fragment "da" over and over and over again while pointing at and playing with ducks, she finally got the "ck" part. It's still a little spitty, but occasionally she belts out "duck!" clear as day.

Now. Nobody teach her how to say "fu".

Taken at the fencing quals on Saturday:

She says "bock bock" when she's playing with her rubber ducks. I've told her repeatedly that they are ducks and say "quack quack", but she doesn't listen.

She also barks at shoes.

Today I took Erin to WonderCon in the City.


I don't really know why, but I enjoyed ComicCon in San Diego when I went, I'm more than a bit of a geek, and I needed something to do inside with Erin on what was supposed to be a pretty rainy day. I guess I do know why. What I really meant is that I don't know why I took her to what was first, foremost, and dominantly a comic convention rather than just a science fiction con; as big a geek as I am about many things, comic books have never really been a part of it.


After spending $12 to get in, $15 to park, $10 on lunch and another $6 on drinks I was really wondering why I was there. Did I seriously spend $37 for the privilege of buying the "Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Season 8" graphic novel omnibus edition of "The Long Way Home"? I'm pretty sure I could have found that at just about any comic shop around.

I enjoyed the people watching. And Erin enjoyed the people watching and looking at everything there was to look at.


She was pretty cute in the backpack.


But I had my doubts. Did I really show up to wander around and look at micro-celebrities like "the guy who stands around in the Darth Vader costume for LucasFilm", or to wait around for Richard Hatch to show up?


I wasn't willing to shell out $20 for the chance to take a picture with these people, so I didn't take any digital shots.

But it turned out to be a pretty good day after all. Richard Hatch did show up, wearing a scarf inside for no reason. I didn't talk to him; the scarf really threw me for a loop.

And there was Brian Posehn, who I only know as a comedian. He was there, sitting at a lonely, set-back table presenting his comic books. I didn't talk to him; the lonely, set-back table and unusually long beard threw me off. Plus, I couldn't remember his last name, and I didn't want to be that guy.

And Peter Mayhew was there with a woman who looked almost as weird as he did. I didn't talk to him; the weird-looking woman really threw me off.

But I did talk to Herbert Jefferson Jr, who played Boomer on the original Battlestar Galactica. Well, I should say that Erin talked to him; babbled at him; waved at him; smiled at him; laughed at him. Seeing her, he said, made his whole day. That went a long way to making my whole day.

As we were wandering the con floor we walked past BarBara Luna's table. When she saw Erin looking at her and smiling she immediately exclaimed "Put that child to work!" I was pretty sure that she meant on film, and not, for instance, in a coal mine; further conversation confirmed this. She was quite insistent, complimentary, and encouraging. That went even further in making my whole day. I know that Erin is beautiful, and has an amazingly expressive face, but it seems that other people think so as well.

In the artist's area I was tapped on the shoulder to catch my attention: "Who's the cutest baby at the convention?" came the inquiry from the quite possibly inebriated gentleman I turned to face. "Um. Her?" I replied, nodding back at Erin. "That's right!" slurs-he. Hey, he may have been drunk, but that still makes a dad happy.


We wandered by a T-shirt booth, and I stopped to give Erin a bottle. Business was a bit slow, so the two guys who were actually staffing the booth (the owners of the company, I think) were off to the side, chatting, and Erin kept peeking over at them, smiling, and giggling. The guys were so tickled by this that as we were leaving they asked if we would come back so that they could take Erin's picture in the booth to put up on the website. Coming so soon on the heels of BarBara Luna's comments I nearly said yes. But I'm not sure I'm ready for Erin to to model, or if I ever will be. And if I were, I'm not sure that I would want her first gig to be at a t-shirt booth at WonderCon. Especially one whose merchandise was self-described as macabre. But, as I said, I nearly did it. This kid is cute.

My day was even further along to being made.

My day was finally made while walking by Lou Ferrigno's table. I suggested to Erin that she greet the Incredible Hulk ("Hey kid, wave hi to Lou Ferrigno!"). Lou is a pretty imposing man, and earlier in the day I had seen a smartass kid angle up to his table, off to one side, with iPhone pointed at him shouting "Lou! Can I get your picture? For free?" This guy was a douchebag. Lou just very calmly, but darkly, pointed down at his sign: $20 for a polaroid. It was not wanting to be that kind of douchebag that accounts for the ZERO pictures I took of these people that I was encountering.

As I say, Lou is a very imposing man, and now here comes the Backpacking Dad with the suddenly taciturn kid; said dad is insufferably saying "wave hi to Lou Ferrigno!" while said kid is, for once, just staring. No smile. No wave. Nothing. Just a stare. Lou stares back. I start to get a little uncomfortable and begin to walk on by, with a nod to Lou meant to convey "Hey, what can you do with a kid who doesn't want to smile?" Lou still hasn't broken expression; in fact, he's reminding me a lot of the way he looked at the iPhone douche. He reaches his hand up to his head, wipes it across his face, and pulls the old smiley-face switcharoo!. He then proceeds to play peek-a-boo with Erin from behind his table.

That, my friends, is what made my day. The image of the Incredible Hulk playing peek-a-boo with Erin will stick with me forever. And it was the combination of all of those little moments that made today wonderful. Even though I had, somewhat selfishly, decided to go to a freakin' comic book convention to try to be cool and geeky for Erin in the future, the day turned out to be about her being cool and adorable and charming for me in the present.

Today was one of my favourite days to be a dad, and I was sorry that we had to leave.

We'll be back next year.

I took Erin to the park today to eat some sand. She one-upped me by chipmunking a leaf and gagging on it later.

It was her first solo playdate, with an adorable little girl, T. By default it was also my first solo playdate with T's mom E. The girls have played lots of times, and E is one of Emily's mom friends who I hijacked back in October when I started going to the playgroup. E and I have hung out frequently, but always in a group of people. She has quickly become a good friend of mine as well. That today was our first solo playdate occurred to me while we were having the following conversation, which I'll paraphrase because I don't remember it exactly:

E: "Have you ever seen 'The Little Children'? Kate Winslet? She's a stay-at-home mom. Anyway, there are these moms who go to a park, and there's this guy who is a stay-at-home dad, and the moms all call him The Prom King."

Me: "Why do they call him 'The Prom King'?"

E: "Because he's really good-looking and they get all swoon-y. So, R (E's husband) and I were watching it the other night, and I turned to him and said, "Don't worry, we don't say that about Shawn"."

Me (after a pause): "Oh. Well, I was never the Prom King."

Even though my immediate response could well have been "Ouch!", it wasn't, because I know her comment to R was about how the moms in the real group differ from the moms in the movie (not swooning, bored idiots, but awesome, professional women) rather than how I look (which is damned good all the time, thank you very much). And I never was the Prom King. But now I was conscious of being the dad in the group, and being out on a solo playdate now, and Hey, how am I perceived in this group of moms? But, that only preyed on my mind for the next hour, because I was about to be mortified.

The girls played for an hour, and we packed up to leave. Erin was in her backpack, and E was wheeling T over to their car in the stroller while Erin and I went to go in the opposite direction. And then, as I was turning to go E said something like "Oh wait [something unintelligible] kiss."

My next thoughts were very quick: (Are we at the kiss on the cheek stage in our relationship? I think I remember giving her a hug last time I saw her; I don't remember a kiss on the cheek. Who have I ever kissed on the cheek? Is E in that category now? Well, we've hung out a lot and I think we're pretty good friends. Ok, why not?)

I leaned in on the right (my right) and gave her a hug and a kiss on her left cheek. And then I hear in my left ear, something like: "I can't quite reach her."

I froze for a quarter-second eternity (drawing out the kiss on the cheek a little longer than the peck I had intended) and then I unfroze long enough to lower the backpack a little over my left shoulder so that E could kiss Erin . But now that I was lowering the backpack I became aware that I was still kind of half-hugging E; I had begun to un-hug her, but paused in mid-un-hug to bring Erin down to her level. So in this half-un-hug state my hands were drawing away from her back but were now more on her waist.

It was like we were dancing. At the Prom.

Oh. Nice. Jackass.

I finally pulled out of the hug (and the dancing cheek-to-cheek) and turned to leave for real this time, when E called out, waving: "Tell Emily that I love her and miss her!"

Not as much as I did, right then.

Someone just smack me.

This moment of embarrassing SAHD park hijinks brought to you by a 3 mile hike with 30 lbs on my back this morning and too much fencing last night.

I'm very grateful for the moms I've met since Erin was born. They began as acquaintances, people my wife knew from a post-natal support group whose children were all the same age. They've since become a very special group of people that I enjoy spending time with. Most importantly, Erin loves playing with the other babies and our group is first and foremost a PLAY-group. There is some gossip, and sometimes the subject of nipples still comes up. But we mostly hang out because we love our children and love to see them playing and we love to talk about them with other people who don't go all glassy-eyed and drooly when the first baby picture is whipped out.

I'm a stay-at-home dad. I am not an alien, and it was my own acceptance of that fact, and my own confidence in my ability and my right that made me comfortable enough to infiltrate this group. Of course, it's my charm and good looks that has made them comfortable enough to not try to exclude me in a clique-y little high school way. It also helps that I can cook.

This moment of reflection, thanks, ranting, and love brought to you in part by Rebel Dad and in part by a pseudo-humorist Stay at Home Mom in Nashville named Lindsay Ferrier

"Daughter" as sung by Loudon Wainright III.



Best line: "Everything she thinks blows her tiny mind."
2nd Best line: "Everything she takes she takes apart."

But come on. Who wouldn't stay home for this face:

Yesterday, Erin started crawling. Well, she started crawling in a straight line toward her goal. She was already crawling around in a circle, always counter-clockwise (she's not an ambi-turner), but she had actually figured out that if she kept going she would get to her goal anyway; so she spent a couple of weeks going around in ever-increasing spirals to get to objects that were right in front of her. But now she's figured out how to snake-crawl forward.

She has also started swimming on her own in the water. We just came home from her swimming class and while we were doing the underwater swims I let her go and she kicked and swung her arms until she started to break the surface of the water. She doesn't have the strength to get her head out of the water yet, so I still have to lift her at the end, but when I pass her to her teacher Erin is the one doing most of the work, kicking her way across the distance.

I'm so proud of her.

I take Erin to San Francisco a lot. I have a valid Go pass until the end of the year, so we ride the train for free.



We usually just do a walk from the Caltrain station at 4th & King to Pier 39 and back. She loves being in the backpack, and even falls asleep sometimes for long stretches.



It's a decent walk, up over a huge hill when I take Powell from Union Square, but now that I've done it a few times I've started craving a little variety. I like being able to point to things and talk to Erin while we're walking, but in order to keep up my patter I too need to be interested in what I'm seeing. So today I decided I'd try a different route.

I'm fairly familiar with the City, but I don't have a map in my head, and I have virtually no concept of distances there; I've usually been in a car when I've gone in the past and when I'm driving I'm more concerned with not going the wrong way down a 1-way street than I am with how far we've driven.

That being said...

I decided to walk from the 4th & King Caltrain Station to the De Young Museum in Golden Gate Park. I had some vague idea that Golden Gate Park was somewhere near the Golden Gate Bridge (my City friends can go ahead and laugh now), so I set off.

First, to Union Square.



Then up Geary a ways until I got bored (I've been on Geary before) so I zigged over to Sutter and took that through Nob Hill and Japantown (I think it was Japantown)



From Sutter I continued toward Arguello where I saw a bike route sign indicating that the Golden Gate Bridge and Presidio were further up Arguello, should I choose to follow it.

"Hmm. Presdio, Presidio. Well, the bridge is up this way, and I think the Presidio is a big park area, so I think Golden Gate Park might be IN the Presidio. I'll go that way." (My City friends can laugh a little bit harder now. They can laugh even harder knowing that I've actually BEEN to Golden Gate Park before, a couple of times.)

I went to the Presidio, saw a bit of the golf course, and found Inspiration Point:



I also saw a map of the Presidio and the north end of the City. Down in the very bottom left hand corner of the area map (not the detail map of the Presidio) I saw the green strip that represents Golden Gate Park. I was in the WRONG PLACE. Not too wrong. Just, um, 2 miles wrong. Crap. Why isn't Golden Gate Park near the Golden Gate Bridge? Bastards.

South I went, the way I came on Arguello, until I hit Geary (Oh, look at that. The boring street I left earlier because I had walked it before turns out to go almost the entire way to the Park. I'm a jackass). I followed Geary for a bit (another one of those bike route signs, this time indicating that Golden Gate Park was in the offing, drew me on) then left at 4th and a little walk along Fulton to 6th, then into the Park and the De Young, whose parking garage was under construction, and whose grand plaza area was oddly deserted.



I was a little tired by then, and a little put off by the $10.50 pre-made sandwiches in the De Young Cafe, so I lacked the enthusiasm to actually go exploring the De Young. I also didn't want to bother getting a stroller at the desk; they wanted me to check my backpack, the one with the baby in it, to enjoy the musuem. I considered it, but ultimately, well, Erin and I have seen the De Young already, and it was getting late by the time she was done with her snack in the Cafe.



I thought about getting on a bus to take me back to the Caltrain station at 4th & King (the 5 picks up on Fulton and goes to 4th and Market or thereabouts), but then I thought "Hell, I've come this far. Let's finish it." So I walked along Fulton to City Hall



then zagged down to Mission and took that to 4th, where I hung a right and got back on the train at 4th and King.

Google Map of the route:

View Larger Map

Arrival time: We disembarked Caltrain in the City at noon.
Departure time: We returned to the Caltrain station at 5:30pm.
Total Distance: 12.3 miles.

Call it a half hour at Inspiration point, and an hour at the De Young for an approximate total walking time of 4 hours. We also walked for about half an hour to get from our apartment to the Caltrain station in Menlo Park.

My hamstrings and hips are going to kill me tomorrow.

I love the word 'rhythm'. It just looks so exotic, with that ambiguous 'y' in the middle. "Am I a consonant or a vowel?" it screams at me. "Why do I have to be a 'sometimes'?"

My life has a rhythm now. On weekdays I wake up with Erin at 7 and then snooze while Emily cuddles with Erin until it's time to get ready for work. Sometime between 8:30 and 9:00 Emily leaves and Erin and I get up. I also try to have breakfast. Around 10 am Erin gets a bottle and then usually passes out for an hour. During this time I check my e-mail, Google-Reader-fed blogs (including LJ's), NHL Fantasy score updates, and, erm, Facebook. Once Erin wakes up I usually take her somewhere. This can be as mundane as the post office or as unusual as the 3.5 mile hike from the 4th and King CalTrain station to Pier 39 in San Francisco. I try to be home in time for Erin to have another nap sometime between 4:00 and 5:00, but this doesn't always happen. From 5:00 until 6:00 I usually prepare dinner, if I haven't done so earlier. Erin's bedtime routine begins at 7:00, so when Emily gets home from work at 6:00 I hand the baby over so Erin can have some mom time. The bedtime routine consists in some dinner (oatmeal and a fruit or vegetable puree), a bath (and tapdance in the tub by Erin), a massage for the baby, a bottle, and a book. She's out by 7:30 or 7:45 on most nights. Post baby-bedtime usually means some quality time for Shawn and Emily before we turn in for the night around 11 (or sometimes 12). Then we hit the reset button and start over.
Variations
On Tuesdays and Thursdays Erin has a swimming lesson in the early afternoon, so I don't take her on any long trips up to the city or down to San Jose.
On Thursdays Erin has a playgroup at 11 and then a baby signing class at 12 before her swimming lesson. This is a very busy day and I bring her home right after swimming.
Tuesday and Thursday nights are my fencing club nights. I'm winning more than half of my bouts now, and against better and better opponents, so I'm very pleased with my progress even though I was off until Erin was 4 months old.
Some Fridays are colloquia Fridays at the department, so Emily comes home in the early afternoon and I take off.
Weekends
Weekends are fun, because (1) I get to sleep in, (2) we do family things together like drive up to Apple Hill in the Sierra Madres or to Monterey, and (3) I usually manage to take a bike ride and sometimes can even sneak in a movie while Emily and Erin spend time together.

One further thing: I write Erin an e-mail every day. I started on the first day that Emily went back to work, my first day of Athomedadhood. I tell her about all the things we did the day before, and about the changes I notice in her. I hope she likes to read them when she's older.

Erin started babbling at 5 weeks. Now we have long babble-conversations all the time, usually with big grins on both our faces. And most of the time I'm saying "hi Erin", or just "Erin" or "Daddy" over and over again, along with some tactile reinforcement (I'll touch her hand to my face when I say "Daddy", or I'll touch her cheek when I say "Erin").

So we're babbling last night, and I'm saying "Hi Erin". Then I tell her "say 'hi daddy'". And holy shit, burn me alive if she didn't take the biggest breath and say "Hi da ee" right back at me. She has made the "hi" sound before, usually a gleefull little sound that I don't really think of as mimicry. She has never combined sounds before (never used more than one syallable). She has also never taken that big a breath before babbling at me.

Emily was sitting right there with me and heard the whole thing. I'm very very happy that there was someone else in the room, because this just sounds made up. Babies don't talk this early; they just don't. First words usually come between 7 and 12 months.

I'm going to go ahead and count that. Maybe it was just gas, but it was so unlike her normal babbling that I'm helplessly convinced that she was trying to talk to me.

Erin's first words, at 7 1/2 weeks old, at 10pm on June 16, 2007, were "Hi Daddy".

Just in time for Father's Day.

"Fit the ring toys to the hanging monkey."

I think I can look forward to many more directives like this one. When I read it the first time (in the assembly instructions for Erin's bouncer) I realized again how much my life has changed in the last week.

The secret baby shadow government has me. I'd call myself a sleeper agent for them, but I'm not really sleeping. I'm more of a napper agent.

My daughter, Erin Elizabeth Burns, was born last night at 10:07 pm.

Phase 2 of Life Project Complete. Commence Phase 3: succeeding in career. But first, a nap, followed by some sleep, then I'll have a lie-down

Ultrasound #2 today, at 20 weeks. I'm going to have a daughter.

It was weird. When I didn't know if we were having a boy or a girl I had no sense of what kind of father I am going to be; as soon as I found out we were having a girl I suddenly became the protective father. It wasn't a plan; it wasn't an intention; it was a reaction: I am going to be protective of my little girl. I think, given this reaction, that all I can do is my best to temper it. Were it a plan, I could change it; were it an intention, I could change it. I'm not sure I can change this feeling toward my daughter, but I know it won't be good for her if I am too protective; so I have to watch myself.