Hannes Bueller's Day Off
What is it with changing diapers that seems so fascinating to everyone? Everybody I know has asked me about it: "Have you changed diapers yet?", "Ok, we'll talk later, I guess you're gonna have to go change Hannes's diapers now," "Well, it'd be nice to see ya, if you have the time with all the diaper changes and all..."
Not many people have asked me what it feels like to hold your own baby on your arms. Or, what it feels like to see Hannes just about to burst into tears (inasmuch as babies "burst into tears") and knowing there is nothing you can do to stop it, or make things better. Except wait. Nobody seems to be interested in knowing what it is like to stand by his bed and just stare at him, and gently touch his cheeks. Not sexy enough, I guess.
Here are some answers: it is an amazing feeling to hold your own baby. Now, Jessica has carried Hannes for nine months, this is my chance to establish a contact with the little guy. And I would give anything to take away the tummyache or whatever it is that makes him cry sometimes, even though we think that everything should be OK.
Changing diapers ... that I can take. If you can fold a piece of paper and stuff it in an envelope, you can change diapers to a baby.
Jessica's Mom is here for a few days and yesterday she and Jessica ventured out to the city, to do some shopping. It was good for Jessica, too, I said, to go out and see some real people and that even though our world has change forever, for the most part, Helsinki still looks the same.
At the same time, it meant that I was left alone with Hannes, for the first time. Jessica fed him before she took off, so that was one less item for me to worry about. All I needed to do, was keep him happy for about three hours. That was my task. And I took it seriously.
So, we began our "guys' afternoon" by watching a little hockey on TV. The game was obviously pretty boring, and Hannes fell asleep halfway through the second period. Not even the Zamboni could wake him up. There I was, lying on the red sofa, with "our Highness" on my stomach. In the third period, I got bored as well, and we decided to go check our email. I had got mail, Hannes not so much. I sang a few oldies for him, while he was staring at me in awe. Then we took a long walk all the way to the bedroom. And then a little shorter walk to the living room. And to complete our tour, we took a semilong walk to the kitchen. Hannes farted. I decided it was time to change him. (And no, that is not a big issue for me).
There was nothing in his diaper. I had, once again, acted too hastily and drawn my conclusions based on too little evidence. Hannes and I decided to watch some more hockey. There we sat for about 15 minutes, when I felt as if somebody was nibbling on my nipple. I was about to ask Hannes if he saw anyone in the apartment, when I realized he was the one making that sucking noise.
That must be one of life's biggest disappointments: to be hungry and realize that the person holding you is a man. Nipples - yes. Milk - no.
Fortunately, Jessica's sister, Aunt Jenny, had taught me the trick of using my pinky as a subsitute-nipple and I managed to fool Hannes. The rest of the afternoon, I sat in that red chair from Konserthuset staring at the VCR clock.
Jessica came exactly 42 minutes (many O Sole Mios) later.
