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It was a Thursday. Actually, it probably wasn't but I can't remember and you won't know the difference.

I had picked up a pizza from our favorite pizza joint, and we were catching up on back episodes of Heroes while we ate. Dylan woke up early from his nap, and the longer we made him wait he was getting more and more upset. He was hungry!

Megan needed another few minutes to finish her dinner, so I brought Dylan downstairs to sit with us, propped up in the Boppy, facing the back of the couch — because he has a tendancy to look to his right, and that's where we were. Maybe seeing us would calm him down. This wasn't enough. Still upset. Still hungry.

I gave him my fingertip to suck on, hoping it would soothe him while Megan finished her last few bites of pizza. Then I realized I had my left arm crossed over my right, index finger in his mouth; and pizza in my right hand. And I was hungry too!

Very carefully I tried to lift my left arm up without stealing my finger away, just enough to sneak my pizza through. Success! … Wah! Wah!

Looking over at Dylan, I immediately realized that in the process of freeing my pizza hand I had inadvertantly pushed my finger back too far in his mouth and triggered his gag reflex, making him tremendously unhappy.

Or to put it another way: For the first time, I had caused my son pain.

And that realization hurt.

I'm sure it's not the last time in his life I'll hurt him in one way or another, but that doesn't make me feel any better. I'm sure there will be lots and lots of good feelings — hopefully way more than bad feelings — but that doesn't make me feel any better. I know that Dylan won't remember it (I will!), but that doesn't make me feel any better. Until that Thursday, I had a perfect record. I was batting 1,000. Undefeated. Superdad.

Heck, I hadn't even gotten any spit-up on my clothes by that point. I have since, though.

And now my perfect record is marred. And it will be again, one day.

I know that the bad things help give us an appreciation for the good, but that doesn't make me feel any better.

Being couped up — not allowed to drive herself anywhere, and not able to go anywhere without her child for more than an hour or two (for breastfeeding reasons) — is a new and frustrating experience for Megan. Dylan is only 2 weeks old and already the cabin fever is setting in.

So, on Tuesday we decided to run a few quick errands together — all 3 of us. We got Dylan situated in his adorable little car seat, strapped him into my truck, and headed off to the bank. Megan went in to deposit some checks and stretch her legs, and I stayed out with Dylan in the car. Then it was off to Giant to pick up a few groceries. This leg of our trip would take a little longer than running in to use the ATM though, so I killed the engine but left the key turned so that I could keep my heated seat and the radio on. Whoops!

As it turns out Megan had her seat turned on too, and between them they managed to drain the battery pretty well while she was inside. About a half hour later Megan came out with our groceries, and we quickly realized we were stuck. The engine was belaboredly ker-chunking, but would not turn over. Without jumper cables (lesson learned! picking those up soon!), we had no choice but to call for help and hope someone could get close enough to give us a jump-start.

Our insurance agent informed us that either a tow-away or a jumpstart service would be covered, but of course the mechanic we called didn't have jumper cables. (wtf?)

Luckily, Susan was only a 10 minute load-up and 10 minute drive away, and she had jumper cables. We apologized and thanked her profusely, and she was on her way out to save us. Then there was just the matter of getting an empty spot close enough to be jumped. As luck would have it, the woman parked nose-to-nose with us was ready to leave within a few minutes. I asked if she happened to have jumper cables (she didn't) and then stood guard in her vacant spot, explaining to passersby that I was saving it to "get a jump" and couldn't let them park there.

Within a few frostbitten toes, an older gentleman walked by and happened to have jumper cables and a kind heart. While he pulled his well-loved red Dodge Ram around, Megan called off her sister — who by this time was only a few blocks away — and within a minute we were running again.

Next time, maybe I'll just get the milk myself.

Life is choppy, now. Two to three hours at a time. Groggy 3am diaper change. Getting pee'd on. Immediately soiling clean diaper. And another groggy diaper change. They say there is light at the end of the tunnel. Problem is you have to be awake to see it. We're zombies, now.

I think that, for a while at least, we're going to give Project365 a rest here on the blog. I'll still be shooting myself every day (sometimes imagining another form of "shooting," I'm sure), and posting those photos right here… so fret not. My ugly mug is readily available. But we have some more exciting things to talk about these days, right?

Dylan had lots of visitors in the hospital and at home. Unfortunately, even though my parents and Zach and Erin came up to meet him on Thanksgiving day, we were so exhausted and spaced out that we totally forgot to take pictures with them. Whoops!

But… fun things like bath time!

… ok, so maybe not so much. What can you say about bath time? He was a little bit dirty (babies don't sweat), and we cleaned him. Funny faces were made.

More pictures of Dylan and Co. here and here.

Oh and speaking of funny faces, we're pretty sure he's channeling Derek Zoolander. I'll have to owe you that picture, but believe me, it will be worth it.

In other news, while I was out picking up some ranch dressing and a sweatshirt today, I bought a couple of sheets (a white and a black) to act as backgrounds in my makeshift basement photo studio. And as if that wasn't cool enough, I have an idea for a nifty photo project that I want to do. Hopefully I'll get some time to work on it soon, but I'm still researching how to get the look I'm after.