Birthday Season is upon the Lindquists

So it's birthday season for the Lindquists. 

And if you haven't heard (which would be a little surprising) we've added a third birthday along side Faith (June) and Gabby (May). Calvin Robert Lindquist was born on April 23rd at 10:45pm. He was the largest of the three, coming in at a staunch 7lbs 12oz and 19.5" long. 

And that's where I come in (wait, actually about 9ish months ago, but that's another story). It's time for my post-baby post. 

What an amazing experience this was. Now, I realize all three were unique and have their own crescendos to them, but this was fast (in the perspective of labor) and furious (in terms of the movie). And while I "helped" with the girls, this was different. I won't go into details, but I was so overwhelmed with what I saw I was crying with joy. 

The girls instantly fell in love with him. 

Everything went well, and we are in the throes of the first few days with a newborn (so hopefully this as coherent as sleeping pizza). But even better, we are a family of five, and with four birthdays in three months (plus our 10-year anniversary this June 2nd) we have an exciting few months just starting, and I'm glad I get to live it and love it with the family I have. 

Here are a few photos from the first moments of Calvin's life. 

Our first photo together.

Two hours after birth, Cal is weighed.

A quick bonding moment for me and the boy.

Here, I believe, I'm imparting some great wisdom... or he tooted.

Definitely a toot.

He looks like A)mom B)dad C)Faith D)Gabby E)all of the above

A very proud big(gest) sister.

A very proud big(ger) sister.

The men of the house doing what they do best. I swear I was awake for this, right?

And finally, the name. I bet you're wondering how we got to Calvin. Well, it just so happened to be on both of our lists, and we loved it. I think our "top five" was something like: Calvin, Clark, Leo, Hudson, Theo. But, I'm going to let you in on a little secret on one of my reasons I liked it: 

"Cal L."

- "Rob L."

Daddies Do It Different

The title of this post is the title of the book I bought Rob for Father's Day.

An excerpt:

At bedtime, Mommy dims the light, dresses me in a clean pair of jammies, and we never forget to brush my teeth.


But daddies do it different. With a thousand kooky voices, Daddy reads me silly stories, we jump like kangaroos, and he tickles me so much, I get crazy-hyper nuts.

It goes on to describe the differences between how mommies and daddies do things like breakfast, bath times and other routines. It is somewhat stereotypical, with mom being the responsible/boring one and dad being the irresponsible/fun one.

Faith's Dad: the fun one.

However, most of the situations couldn't be more true for how our family operates. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing.

When Faith was first born, I read something on Babycenter to the effect of "you may want to kill your DH (dear hubby) shortly after the baby is born." I remember thinking how ludicrous that seemed. Rob was so helpful, keeping track of my medications, getting up with me in the wee hours of the morning, running errands, etc. How could I ever even get mad at him, let alone want to kill him? Well, just like with household chores, sometimes you feel an imbalance when caring for a kid, even if there isn't one. It took a few months, but I got to the point where I felt like he wasn't shouldering his share of the load or just wasn't doing "it" right. That kinda makes me sound mean, but I think most moms will know what I'm talking about here. For example, the first bath Rob gave Faith, he dabbed some water on a washcloth and not so gently wiped Faith three times before calling it good. My mom and I just looked at each other like "What was that?"

Well, daddies do it different (differently to be grammatically correct). And that's OK. Because sometime after that bath, my mom and I decided to take a walk with Howie. When we got back Rob told us he gave Faith a tour of the house. Who would've thought to give a 4-day-old baby a tour of the house? Her dad.

He may not comb her hair like I would. Exhibit A.

Or dress her like I would when playing in the snow. (Those are pajama pants.)

Or play with her like I would. Yes, that's a worm. Ewwww.

But that's because he's not supposed to. Faith doesn't need two me's. She needs her mom and she needs her daddy. Our differences are what make us great parents.

If it weren't for her dad, Faith wouldn't get to enjoy weekly trips to the grocery store/Target, where her dad lets her push the cart and play with the pianos in the electronics department.

She wouldn't get to enjoy weekday morning trips to the zoo, where her dad teaches her how to "find Nemo" and appreciate all God's creatures.

Because Daddies do it different(ly). And that's OK with me. It's more than OK. It's perfect.

If it weren't for Dads

Before Faith, Rob couldn't hold a small child without breaking into a sweat. He would lean way back as if the weight of the baby would topple him forward. Another child's diaper -- yeah, right. It didn't exactly reassure me of his parenting skills, but I just hoped our daughter would bring out the daddy in him.

You know how they say it's different when they're your own. Well, it's completely TRUE. The instant Faith was placed in his arms, fatherhood came naturally to my husband. There was no lean. Just a proud papa willing to change those baby meconium diapers. I distinctly recall him exclaiming, very loudly mind you, how bad one of them was as I attempted to order room service food over the phone at the hospital.

I was just thinking the other day, if it weren't for her dad, Faith would never get to experience so many things in life. Such as:

the joy of Starbucks' banana bread on Saturday morning Target runs

the excitement of being held high on daddy's shoulders or upside down, something mom is too nervous to try

a love of music from an actual musician

summers home with dad that make the first day of school that much harder on everybody

the silly gene. some of faith's best belly laughs have happened because of something her dad did.

smooth nap/bed times. it was daddy who had the guts to put her to bed without rocking her to sleep so this could happen.

adventure, dad style. we'd never know that faith could do half the things she can do on her own if rob wasn't so great about letting her try.

cubs baseball, or napping through cubs baseball

 

if it weren't for her dad, faith would never wear sweatpants with a sweater.

 And last but not least, if it weren't for her Dad, Faith wouldn't have her very own superhero.

Do you have a "if it weren't for my Dad" memory? Do share. Mine is "if it weren't for my Dad, I wouldn't have the strong faith I have today." I went on a brief church hiatus my freshman year of college, but it was my dad who came to town and took me to a church I would come to call home for the next four years: St. Thomas Aquinas. By far, my favorite church of all time that I still love to attend when we're in town. Thanks, Dad. Love you.