1-month checkup

Well, I'm back. I didn't put benzoyl peroxide on the baby's pimple. We had a 1-month checkup appointment on Monday anyway so I decided to wait instead of risking an altercation with the Mrs. We are not sure where we have stashed the boxing gloves at the moment. I've hidden the golf clubs, tennis rackets and other potential weapons. I just have to lock up the tools in the garage and worry about the knives later.

Sydney is doing great with her growth. At the 2-week checkup, she weighed 6 lbs even and measured about 19 inches. This time, she weighed in at 8 lb 7 ozs and measured around 20.25 inches. The doctor gave us a prescription for the rash on her bottom and some samples of medication for the acne on her face and chest. My baby is growing up [sniff, sniff]. She is no longer wearing premie-size clothes and is starting to take around 5 ozs of milk/formula at feeding.

The Combi stroller finally arrived on Sunday. Tracie and mom-in-law took Sydney out for a stroll yesterday afternoon since the weather was warm and sunny. It was somewhere around 85 degrees. They decided to head to the daycare center near the house to check it out. It appears that Sydney will be going there soon. Tracie told me that Sydney really enjoyed the walk. She went to sleep soundly shortly after they started walking. Even when I got home, she was almost snoring in the Pack-n-Play. There will be plenty of walks if this is the case.

A friend of mine (Aunt Beth) sent me some suggested rules that I should be familiar with going forward. I love it. These rules will be strictly enforced, as soon as she is old enough to date, since there are already suitors or parents of suitors at my door. I must share these rules, with minor modifications, with them ASAP.

RULES FOR DATING MY DAUGHTER

Rule One:

If you pull into my driveway and honk, you'd better be delivering a package, because you're not picking anything up.

Rule Two:

You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them.

Rule Three:

I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers [or diapers] so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear [or diaper] showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in-fact come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers [and diapers, if applicable]securely in place to your waist.

Rule Four:

I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "Barrier Method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you and eat your liver with fava beans and a nice chianti.

Rule Five:

It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is: "early."

Rule Six:

I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.

Rule Seven:

As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process than can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?

Rule Eight:

The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter:

• Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool.

• Places where there is darkness.

• Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness.

• Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka-zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies that feature chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folk’s homes are better.

Rule Nine:

Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.

Rule Ten:

Be afraid, be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway, you should exit the car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, and then return to your car - there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.