My Cartoons vs. His Cartoons

I like...











He likes....










I like...













He likes...














And thus I relent. I have to face facts that being raised on He-Man, Thundercats, Looney Tunes, G.I. Joe, and Voltron (later on Animaniacs, The Tick and Eek! the Cat) probably didn't do much to edify my inclination toward watching educational cartoons. But the evolution of cartoons is something that's great as a parent. Now you don't have to feel bad about letting your kid zombie out for a little bit.

I'll grant you that there have to be limits. We don't just turn the T.V. on and turn our parenting skills off. Playhouse Disney actually helps us interact a bit with a few of their shows. And he learns from them too.

But I like to watch the silly shows sometimes too. I think silliness is underrated. But I digress.

What Playhouse Disney does is amp up the interaction. Asking the viewer questions, waiting for the answer, asking the viewer to do some physical action, then applauding the action. It's really great for kids to have that rather than just mindless entertainment. And this coming from a guy who doesn't like Disney. I was a Looney Tunes guy. I liked violence like Foghorn Leghorn or Wile E. Coyote.

But I appreciate the educational entertainment industry. It doesn't take the place of playing with the kids or reading to them, but it's a nice accessory to those things.

That being said, I like mindless entertainment too.

StoryTime!!!

There's one man who makes parenting a much easier job. One man who in modern history shaped our lives in my generation and generations before, more than any other literary figure. And that man is Dr. Seuss.

Reading to your child is a wonderful pastime for a variety of reasons. It gives you quality time. It gives you a chance to cuddle with your little one. It helps them to hear and hopefully expand their own vocabulary.

When our son began saying his first words we began the ritutal of reading a book to him every night. Mostly short books like If You Give a Pig a Pancake and Moo, Baa, La La La. But I'm a big, big fan of Seuss.

My wife doesn't read Seuss as much because they're usually nearly 50 pages. I find them to be a quick read and they give me an opportunity to teach my son something else: rhythm.

The great thing about Seuss is that his writing style not only helped kids with their vocabulary, spelling, and phonics, but it was written with a rhythm. This month in particular I've read How the Grinch Stole Christmas a couple times already. Anyone in my generation who reads that book reads it in the way it was recited in the 30 minute TV special. And we try our best to mimic the Grinch's voice. We may even sing a few bars of You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.

So today a special shout out to Dr. Seuss. Seuss, Theodore Geisel, passed away over 15 years ago and still has a profound impact on today's children. I love reading his books for my son, and frankly for myself.

From there to here, From here to there, Funny things are everywhere.

Working from the Home

Some people may ask, "How young is too young to put your child to work helping earn the family income?" I say if they can sit up, they can help out.

Our son has his own internet based business selling used pacifiers and refurbished diaper Genies. It gives him something to do and the extra income comes in handy. We snapped this picture of him on an average workday.

Actually I wanted to post today to announce a breakthrough. The breakthrough has nothing to do with this picture, but I needed to get a new pic of him up, so I just grabbed one off the hard drive.

Our son is now eating table food as if he's always liked it. The baby sitter reported that yesterday he ate chicken nuggets, corn and applesauce for lunch. Last night we had tacos. No, we did not give our one year old tacos and refried beans. That is a recipe for a sleepless night if I've ever heard one. We gave him a banana. The whole banana. Then we gave him some Cheerios (or Baby Crack as I call them) to top the meal off with a ice cold sippee cup of whole milk to wash it down.

My wife and I were talking last night after putting him to bed. We both think its been amazing how fast he's learning. It's like he's a young Doogie Howser (without that annoying Vinnie popping in through the bedroom window at night.) In the last two weeks he's learned clapping, patting, waving, kissing, eating with a spoon, shapes, how to pet the kitty (with nice hands) and the joy of chicken nuggets (thank you McDonald's for introducing the world to your tasty chicken nuggets that come in only two shapes, boots and circles.)

Every parent wants to think that their child is exceptional. I'm sure I will one day too. But today I don't really think he is nor do I care. He's happy, healthy, and smart. That's a blessing.

One more thing to blog about today briefly. Aiden has learned his patting and other motions from mimicking what he sees on Disney's Little Einstein's TV program. It occurred to me this morning in the shower (who doesn't do their best thinking in the shower?!?) that it is oh so important to pay close attention to what's on your TV. If a boy who is no more than 56 weeks old can mimic what's on TV, then any child can.

Tables and Jars, Tables and Jars

The latest parental hurdle we've come up against is how to get your child to eat table food. Our son had no problem eating table food here and there along the way. But lately if you give him something from your plate he acts like you're offering him rat poison. He gets downright beligirent if you try to force it in his mouth.

And it's not strange foods. We don't feast on Korean cuisine or anything. I'm talking mashed potatoes, green beans, breads, etc. Pretty normal fare. But the child would rather have Goldfish and Cheerios than just about anything. Oh, and if it comes out of a jar, it automatically gets the lipsmacking seal of approval.

The great thing about having a young child is that one day is completely different than the one that preceded it. Its also the bad thing about having a young child because you never know what's going to work. In the last week he's let down his guard a bit and been more willing to try table foods, but he's still very cautious about it.

It seems like letting him hold the spoon is a milestone, but we'll see how long that lasts. Not to mention the food we're wasting by letting him smear it on his face rather than getting it in his mouth. Oh the starving people in third world countries would loathe us. On the other hand, they can't even get food, so they don't have internet. And if they don't have internet, they'll never know this story.

Happy Birthday Son!!!

Ok, this post is late. My son's birthday was actually on November 14th. But as you can see, he's a happy little fella. It took some coaxing to get him to try to actually eat the cake. In the end his Granddaddy helped him with it.





We spent probably less than $20 on this toy and it was a hit. He has to be occassionally reminded that he has it, but he likes to walk with it. Not always forward, but he does walk with it. It gets him a step closer to actually walking, or as I think of it,D-Day.




Since it's been so long since I updated The New Daddy Diary, let me share some news.

Babies, Babies, Babies!!! It's a Bowling Green Baby Boom!
1. We have one friend who has had her second baby.
2. We have another friend who announced she and her husband are expecting their first.
3. We have another friend who has "dropped" and is nearing the birth of her first.
4. We have yet another friend who is prepping for the January arrival of their first.

Spoon!!!!
Our son actually fed himself with a spoon last night. Granted, it was by no means a flawless attempt, but it was pretty well executed for a first timer.

Hugs and Kisses
Our boy now gives me gigantic open mouthed kisses on the cheek when I ask him too. It's wet, sloppy, and sometimes turns into a bite, but it's cute. And he's always so proud of himself after he does it.

Slap hands! Slap hands!
A wise man once said, "it's the little things." It really is when you have children. Our son has learned to clap. I think it's no small coincidence that he learned this at the beginning of Western Kentucky Basketball season. Diddle Arena is a great place to learn how to clap.

Shape Sorters Sort Shapes to Sharpen Senses
To my shame, I have misled you. Our son actually learned to clap from us cheering him while he played with his Shape Sorter he got as a birthday present. He's pretty good at it. He's also smart enough to take the top off and just slam the shapes in there when he gets frustrated. There's more than one way to sort a shape my friends.

That helps bring us up to date. Hopefully I can post more often in the future.

Look! Up in the Sky!!

It's a Bird! It's a Plane!! It's SuperSon!!!!

I've been trying for DAYS to get this picture uploaded without success. So now, nearly a full week after Halloween Night, I get it up here.

Bumps and Bruises

It's no wonder that young men love to play contact sports. It seems that males are attracted to football and hockey, both to play and to watch. And when you have a young son, you see why. The pain, hits, bruises, bumps, blood, and tears no doubt reminds them of when they were a small child.

I can say this with confidence because I watch my son almost daily slip, fall, run into, crash into, and pull off things that constantly cause him minor pain. Our boy is particularly fond of grabbing things off our coffee table. Then getting them off the floor and putting them back on the coffee table. But when your legs are like Play-Do (they're solid, but you wouldn't want to put your weight on them) you slip and you fall into the coffee table. A lot. Repeatedly.

The lesson to be learned here is that no matter how closely you watch your child, it is inevitable that the child will risk his/her own life multiple times weekly. It's just run of the mill type of stuff. And it's a good thing. That's right, a good thing. Fathers will say it toughens them up. Mothers will say it teaches them to be more cautious. Either way, pain, physical pain in particular, is a part of life and the more you have to deal with it, maybe the better you get at it.

Now I'm not suggesting you whack junior with a rolling pin to teach him toughness. (Really. Don't do that. Ever.) But don't freak out when the kid gets hurt. Just be there to kiss the boo-boos and soothe the baby. After all, he's not Superman, is he?

One Down

Last night was cake. Which surprises me as much as anyone. Watching my 10 month old son by myself I fully expected to be torture. (and I mean foreign country torture, not United States-level torture. But I digress.)

Our only fussy moment of the night came when we were at church. He made it almost all the way through the baby's bible class but then he got upset. It seemed when I got him that he was looking for Mommy. He did the same thing as we left the building after services were over. It was sweet and just a tiny bit heartbreaking.

Mommy will be back Friday afternoon, which means baby and me get to spend another night together tonight. My mother had graciously offered to watch him (of course she wouldn't just want him to herself would she? ;-P) and I considered the offer seriously. But ultimately I decided that I wanted to spend some bonding time with him. So far I in no way regret the decision, and grandmother is on tap to see him Saturday.

One more thing. This morning in my car on the way to his Super-Sitter, I kept glancing back over my shoulder to where he was in his car seat. And everytime I did he was looking at me and laughing. So we reach one of two conclusions, I need a haircut so bad I resemble Bozo the clown, or my son is just as happy as a lark in the mornings. Of course the answer is C) All of the above.

Having a morning baby is a blessing. Because mornings are hard enough on parents. I can't imagine goign through them with a fussy kid every day.

Hook'em Horns

I'm not a particular fan of the University of Texas Longhorns. But hey, our son has family in Texas, so we've got a few articles of orange in the closet.
This is his first Texas outfit. The recent cool weather has given us opportunity to dress him in his warmer outfits.

The boy has become quite an imitator, but only when he wants to. He's trying to imitate just about anything we say. But he's also taken to imitating Disney's Little Einsteins (a really great kids program.) He likes to imitate the "pat, pat, pat" the characters do. He's also waved, and enjoys playing with his lips and making noises.

For the next few days it's just baby and me as his mother has gone to a conference out of town. So it's a Daddy Test time. Pray for me, but pray harder for him!

Not Mo, Not Larry, Not Shemp, But...

CURLY!! This poor kid is working some major curls all of the sudden. Especially the rooster tail you see in the pictures. It's incredible because when his hair is wet, it goes down the length of his neck and touches his back just barely. But when it's dry, it curls back up into his head and his neck is completely uncovered.

You Musta Been a Beautiful Baby...

Putting aside our shame, my wife and I entered our son in a baby contest last month. I hesitated putting the picture up on here mostly because I don't want readers forming any poor opinions of us. We're just not the pageant types. But as the contest was at the community day of my hometown and my mother encouraged us to enter him we did.

The contest affirmed what we already knew. That our son was the cutest boy age 6-12 months in the community of Dundee, Ky. Ok, we may put him on a slightly higher pedastal than that. Especially considering he only had one opponent.

So I'll wax psychological here and wonder why there are people who "need" to put their children in contest. No, I'm not talking about baby contests. I think those are pretty harmless as a whole. Everyone thinks their baby is cute, so you ask some judge to confirm that. Well if they don't, you call them a backwards, nearsighted, yellow bellied coward of a hick and move on. No harm, no foul.

But the people who have been documented on HBO specials who envelope their children in "beauty" pageants. The example of the Ramsey family is the first that jumps to one's mind. But that's far too tragic a story to tread upon with such brevity. I just wonder if its something in the parents that needs to be fulfilled. Why do you need someone to confirm to you how special your child is?

I guess until I shrink and crawl inside the head of these folks, I'll just never know. So for now I'll assume we're not parents who "need" such confirmation. But for any Dundee-ans who are reading this, just know, we're number one! That's right!

Ponderings

A couple things have crossed my mind lately about parenting.

Number one, where is the line that separates teaching your child your beliefs versus brainwashing them? This is a tough question. I don't want to raise my son to be close minded at all, but I have a responsibility to teach him my beliefs. Especially since my wife and I believe that faith will lead him to salvation. Of course there can be nothing more important than that for a Christian parent.
But too many people rely on what their parents believed and how they were raised. I suppose the medium here lies in teaching them what you believe and know and then teaching them to teach themselves. Thankfully I've got a while before this becomes a tangiable issue in our home. Lord willing much wisdom will come to us as parents before we have to tackle this one.

Number two has to do with spoiling our son. I think people have a quick trigger with that word. We've heard already that our son is spoiled. I think mostly that's said in jest, but as a new parent you get a bit gunshy around that term. No one wants a spoiled baby. Because spoiled babies become spoiled toddlers, spoiled toddlers make spoiled kids, and spoiled kids make for big headaches.
But here's the question. Is there a difference between spoiling and loving? I think there is. Now obviously there is more than one type of spoiling. I'm not referring to lavishing your kids with gifts and unmerited priveleges around every corner. Nor am I referring to refusing to discipline your child to the point that he/she literally runs the home.
I mean the spoiling that comes when your child can only be soothed by you. When they only want to be held by you and they throw fits (fits, not fussing) when they don't get their way. To an extent, every child does that. So where does that line exist? Does that line exist at all? We love our son, and we're going to cuddle with him, kiss him, play with him, and soothe him when he's upset. So how is that spoiling? Are we somehow ruining him for life because he knows his parents love him and are there for him? I see a big difference between loving and spoiling. I wish more people saw it that way and we wouldn't be so quick to label other kids as spoiled.

Just a couple random thoughts from me.

Walker, Kentucky Ranger

Walkers are not recommended by the world of pediatrics. I can’t understand that. Ok, so they can tip over and cause injury. I get that. I also get that the biggest reason for that is people sticking their children in a walker then paying no attention to them. We are not like those parents.

So our son is in his Pooh themed walker. Basically, we’re putting him in there so he can occupy himself without climbing over every inch of furniture while we try to eat dinner. Again, we’re watching him. But we’re eating too.

Here’s another observation of babies. Their first movements are apparently always backwards. Which makes sense. It’s easier to push backwards than to pull forward. When our son was learning to crawl, all he did was push himself backwards. Now in his walker, it’s the same thing. He can only go in reverse. That makes him very angry when he’s trying to get closer to Momma and Dada.

COLD UPDATE: Still there. Not as bad, but it’s still there. So the nose cleansing is still going on. And he still hates said nose cleansing. This morning, after finishing his breakfast (so to speak) he was crawling around on the bed when he coughed a couple times then launched spitup all over Dada like I was Will Smith in Men in Black. (“Aww, you know he’s actually kind of cu…{BLECH!!!}”)

Landmark

I forgot the camera this morning, so forgive the lack of pictures.

Last night we reached a parenting landmark. For the first time since his birth on November 14th, our son slept in his crib in his room. He's been in a bassinet in our room all this time. My wife, who is remarkable in a million ways, was very strong. I know it hurt her to not have him in our room. And it hurts me a bit too, but its part of the process.

What my wife has in character she lacks in physical size. She's just under 5 feet tall. So the latest hurdle she's had to clear as a first time parent is how to get our son in the crib without chucking him over like a Scottish log toss (see below.)

But she managed to get him in there. He woke up a couple times, but got back to sleep quickly. All in all, it was a success. It just may not feel like one.

The Necessary Evil

Caring for your baby is not all fun and games. There are evil things you will be forced to do. Taking a rectal temperature for one. But today we'll discuss one with which I've become far too familiar. The Bulb Syringe.

Let me explain pictorially.

This:

Plus this:

Equals this:

Understand? It's not always a bad thing, but when you put that rubber torture device into a red, sore, snotty nose you get pain. And babies don't like pain.

How Did We Get Here?

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment where my son became a Mama’s Boy. I’ve retraced our 8+ months of history, and I honestly can’t say when it happened. Perhaps it was a slow progression. But somewhere along the line the boy has decided that in moments as mundane as playing in the living room floor to moments as traumatic as fighting this most recent cold, he would rather have Mama than Dada.

I can’t say how I feel about this exactly. There’s the sensible, rational part of me who realizes that it’s quite natural for young boys to develop an affinity for their mothers. But then there’s the selfish, emotional part of me that is saddened by it and wonders what I could have done differently.

Rationally I realize there’s not much I could have done. I’m a pretty good Dad. I’m fun, I take care of him, I play with him, cuddle him, hug him and kiss him. I do most all the things that his mother does. I just don’t do them like she does, apparently.

It was a fascinating thing to watch happen. My wife is a devoted and excellent mother, so you can't blame the boy for "picking" her. But the whole time I kept watching him desire her comfort and presence more and I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt a bit.

So chalk up one more cliché as being true. Mama’s Boys and (hopefully, someday) Daddy’s Girls. Now excuse me while I wallow in my own self pity.

Snotty Again

Last night I witnessed the fastest onset of a cold that I've ever seen. My son was perfectly healthy and happy when I got home at 5:30 PM.

By the time he ate his nighttime cereal, he had a runny nose. 7:30 PM.

He went to bed and then woke up around 9:00 PM with his nose almost completely stopped up. The poor guy slept in about one and a half hour segments all night long. Thus, his mother and I slept in one and a half hour segments as well.

Near 4AM my wife offered to let me sleep in the other room so I could get some sleep before going to work. I declined at first, but changed my mind pretty quickly.

She's at home with the poor thing today. A little medicine here, some rest there and you just hope he gets over it soon.

CATCHING YOU UP
Our son has cut his fourth tooth. This one was a real lulu. It's an incisor and I didn't think it would ever make it out. But it finally did last week. To the delight of both parents.

Crawling is fun for him now. He will usually wear a smile as soon as he gets up on hands and knees. Chasing the cat is an olympic sport as far as he's concerned.

The time is drawing near to put him in his own room. Since he was born he has slept with us in our room. Not in our bed, as we wouldn't allow ourselves to become "those parents." He's been in his bassinette. I think this weekend we'll make the switch to the crib we paid a lot of money for that needs to be used to justify its existence before Daddy goes insane.

Proof Positive

Here it is. Undeniable proof that our son can crawl.

As you can see he has an attraction the coffee table. It must be sugar coated because he goes after it every time.

Now that he's realized his mobility it's really becoming both challenging and a lot of fun. When I left the living room last night to check on dinner in the kitchen, he started crying and was halfway to the kitchen in seconds.

It also brings to mind an idea. Nerf furniture. Market it to both kids and young parents. It sells itself. You could sell it the aisle with that cheap, ghetto looking inflatable furniture junk.

Until Nerf steps up to the plate, I've put the corner guards on the coffee table and have fitted the extra outlets with those plastic covers.

Your baby starts crawling and the next thing you know you view every hard and sharp thing as a potential threat.

Crawling Confirmed/Heartbreak Averted

The boy is officially crawling. No ifs ands or buts. He's moving. And he's attracted to the coffee table like Star Jones is attracted to attention. No matter what direction he's facing, he finds a way to spin around and head toward the most dangerous object in the room. Probably because he wants to pull himself up by it, but luckily he's a bit too small to do that just yet.

Heartbreak was averted when we saw him crawl before the babysitter...told us he'd done it there. Ok, so it's mildly disappointing to know we weren't the first ones to see him crawl. But it wasn't so bad because we got to think we were first. Then later we found out we weren't, but it softened the blow considerably.

I'll have some new pictures to post soon. Hopefully by tomorrow.

Did That Baby Just Crawl?

The Ballad of A Crawling Baby continues. I’m not really sure if I witnessed a monumental occasion in my son’s life last night or if I’m just an eternal optimist.

He got a gift (complete with Pooh gift bag) from our neighbors across the street. It was sitting in the floor and my son was a few feet away. He got up on hands and knees and moved each hand a bit, moved one leg forward and the next thing I knew he was crawling.

Or was he?

It was a couple feet at most. One leg never really moved and he couldn’t duplicate it when his mother got into the room. So I’m left with the question. Did I just see my son crawl or did I just see him pull with his hands, drag his legs behind him and grab a gift bag. My glass is half full, so I’m saying he crawled…sort of.

Today’s tidbit of advice regards bathing your baby. If you don’t have a cup or something in there to pour over the baby’s head, then you’re missing out. That’s the lifesaver when trying to get shampoo out of his/her head after they begin sitting up in the bath.

Too Soon, Too Soon (Ptewie, Ptewie, Ptewie)

This is a pictorial progression of our son. It is designed to scare the living daylights out of parents to be and parents of newborns. They grow up at an alarming rate. Oh, and the “(Ptewie, Ptewie, Ptewie)” is supposed to be the sound made when spitting, like in My Big Fat Greek Wedding.
The first picture is when he's less than one month. The second is when he's just around one month (5 weeks I think) and the last was taken today, his 8month birthday. Excuse me while I go cry like a little girl.

Crawling...the next frontier

Crawling is supposed to be a part of the natural progression of your baby. But so far it has been a challenge and a frustration for our son, and to a lesser extent, to us.

It’s a precarious position for a young parent. You want to see your child stay on par with other babies his/her age. You want to match teething stories and crawling stories tit for tat with his peers. But at the same time you’re in no hurry for the child to get one minute older. For that matter, you’re in no hurry for him to become mobile either. Rolling is one thing, crawling opens up a virtual Pandora’s box of potential troublemaking.

Our son has been pushing himself up with his arms for sometime. He’s been craning his neck out of the bassinet each morning as if to say, “I’m awake, wet and hungry….you know what to do.” In the last couple weeks he’s been pushing himself with his arms. Unfortunately, when you’re on your belly and you push yourself with your arms, you only go backwards, thus his frustration.

Occasionally in the last week or so he’s begun to use his legs only a little. There has been no forward motion, but he’s perched on his toes and hands and rocked. Ever so often he’s actually been on hands and knees rocking, but still no forward motion. We root for him and cheer him on. He looks at us like we’re ape-people and then collapses under the weight of his own body.

We’re getting closer. I feel like we’re less than a week away from the first crawl. My fear is that he’s going to do it at the babysitter’s. I really hope he holds out until he’s at home. You feel like you miss so much just being at work everyday. Luckily he’s only teethed on the weekends, so we’ve been able to see those things sprout. But crawling worries me. I guess we’ll see.

Pool Fun

The best $8 investment in my recent memory is the inflatable pool I bought at Dollar General recently. Getting my son in the pool is no problem as he has really come to like being the water. Yesterday in our less than exciting Fourth of July celebrating, we decided to have pool time. This pool is round and probably five feet in diameter. So amuse yourselves with visions of two grown adults and an infant in a tiny pool of water.

Now that you've quelled your laughter, I'll continue. With our young son, we didn't make any plans for the Fourth. Although I was very tempted to return to the campus of Western Kentucky University (go TOPS!) for their shindig featuring the Bowling Green Chamber Orchestra. But since it was a weeknight and our son goes to bed before dark, I was outvoted by common sense.

So I got a touch of cabin fever yesterday and decided to have our pool party. I brought a radio outside and we took towels and all as if we were going for a day at the beach. I guess this was done for my amusement. But the real fun is watching my son in the water. I "taught" him how to do a cannonball by holding his legs up against his chest and splashing him down in the water. I leaned him back so his head touched the water, but he didn't care for that much.

Mostly he just giggles at us giggling at him. His laughter is as infectious as the common cold. And I guess ours is to him as well. Anyway, my advice for this post is to invest in a pool.

Medical Decisions Made Easy (-ier)

A couple pointers about having a newborn. We have three sets of friends who are currently expecting. May God bless each of them with a healthy and happy child. One of the most important things a young parent must do is choose insurance.

There are several things in life you don’t go cheap on. Household items like toilet paper and garbage bags. Go cheap on either and you’ll learn that lesson quickly. Food items like hamburger meat and off brand hot dogs. You end up with burgers that need to be cooked within 48 seconds of getting home from the grocery and hot dogs that actually taste like what hot dogs are made of.

Well health insurance for your baby is one of those things. You have to know going in that you’re going to be going to the doctor for a lot. You’ll be going for well visits more than ill visits. If you’re paying a high copay amount those visits add up. Not to mention you’ve got shots, ill visits, and perhaps even medicines.

So shop around before your child is born. Find a good insurance with good copay rates that is affordable. I’ll even go so far as to endorse Anthem Blue Cross Blue Shield. That’s what our son uses and it’s been just great with only one small exception. All in all, we’ve been very pleased.

The other thing worth shopping around for is a good pediatrician. Ask around and ask a lot. After you’ve assembled a list of “candidates” then go and visit them. They’ll be glad to talk to you and you’ll be able to tell pretty soon if they’re the right doctor for you and your child. But take the time to interview them.

A good friend of ours highly recommended her son’s pediatrician and we scheduled an interview (oh, and have some questions written down. You can Google to find the right questions to ask as all new parents are clueless.) Upon interviewing the guy my wife and I looked at each other with that “NO WAY” look in our eyes. For whatever reason, we just didn’t hit it off with him. It’s almost like dating. Sometimes there’s a spark, sometimes not.

Another recommended pediatrician ended up being our guy. We’re thrilled with him (although with his Indian accent and speedy vocal delivery, we do have to ask him to repeat himself nearly every visit.)

Two important decisions that its worth taking your time with. Do your homework here, don’t be cheap, and your mind will be at ease. Well, as at ease as new parent’s minds ever get anyway.

SuperDad

Last night my wife fought through my red tape and managed to leave the house for an evening out. My household bureaucracy needs work. That was way too easy.

Alright, actually I was glad she was able to get out and enjoy herself away from the stress of a young parent's household. But that left just me and baby. What a terrifying prospect. But I was able to rise and meet the challenge like a man conquering Everest. I proved myself when it counted. I had my one shining moment (patent pending per CBS.)

In reality the challenge wasn't that daunting. My son was especially good. I got to eat without him fussing, which is more rare than a good Bill Paxton movie. We went for a nice walk. Visited with some friends in the adjacent neighborhood. I dare say it was easy.

The point of this however is to hammer home a point I make nearly every week on this blog. Nothing can take the place of spending a lot of time with your baby. Nothing. Quality time over quantity time is a myth. You need both simultaneously.

We found out yesterday some good friends of ours are now expecting their first child. I may actually be more giddy than they are. Why? Because I know how much joy and fun awaits them. Just a bit over seven months (and two teeth) into the process I don't care to remember what life was like before my son was born. I've always enjoyed life. After I married my wife life got even better. Now it's clearing the stratosphere and gets better nearly every day. It's not a daily walk through a rose garden, but the highs outweigh the lows like Jaba the Hut outweighed Leia.

So if my friends are reading this, congratulations from my family to yours. We're happy and excited for you and we'll pray for everything to go well. I trust in God that it will.

Hey! I finally got that picture of my son and his cousin loaded. It's going to be a swell day!

Teeth! We've got Teeth!

Since it's been twelve days since my last entry, this will be a potpourri type post.

My son went from tooth to teeth over the weekend. That's two and counting. So the Mrs. and I are now very accustomed to the agony of a whiny, teething baby. Agony is a harsh term, but it's not fun by any means.

Some things that we have learned to be stored in the Daddy Memory Banks for future offspring:
1. Motrin is better than Tylenol for teething.
2. 99.8% of teething toys are too big.
3. Cool, wet cloths are better than too big teething toys.

We had another funny poop story this weekend. Poop stories just come with being a parent I suppose. I knew something was up Friday as we actually went to dinner at a sit down restaurant with our son and he behaved. After a while you almost become suspiscious, but the joy of chewing your food before swallowing and entertaining the thought of staying for dessert clouds one's judgment.

So as my wife was finishing her meal I was holding my son. Then the grunting began. At this point I've learned that solid foods usually equal solid poop, so I'm not stressing. I simply get a diaper and the wipes and head to the bathroom.

Problem #1: no diaper deck in the men's bathroom. I return to the table and complete the handoff to my wife.
Problem #2: no diaper deck in the women's bathroom. She returns the favor and I head toward the car after requesting that we order dessert to go.
Problem #3: Neverending poop.
Problem #4: Pee on the face and seat.
Problem #5: Upset baby.
Problem #6: I've only got one diaper in hand and I'm running out of wipes.
Problem #7: my son is soothing himself by eating what would later be discovered to be important documents for my wife's work. Oooops.
Problem #8: No plastic bags or anything else to dispose of a VERY dirty diaper and some VERY, VERY dirty wipes.
Problem #9: One stinky Ford Taurus.
Problem #10: There was no tenth problem, I just don't like stopping on nine.

Father's Day has come and gone. My wife is terribly disappointed that I don't care much about it. I'm just not a holiday/birthday kind of guy. One of my biggest reasons for this is it becomes entirely too materialistic with people always comparing what they got with what someone else got. Who cares? What I've got is a terriffic wife and a wonderfully funny 7 month old baby boy. And if that was all I got I'd be happier than a pig in the slop. But I also got a nice backrub (which proves it was a holiday or some sort of important occassion as backrubs are rare in my household.)

One last thing. No picture. I can't get the doggone thing to work. Oh well, maybe next time.

6-6-06 Truly was an Evil Day

On Tuesday, 6-6-06, I woke up at 1 AM and noticed my wife not in bed. I thought little of it and figured she was making a late bathroom visit. At 4 AM I woke again and noticed her still not in bed. So I got up to investigate. It turned out she had been sick. At this point, I was pretty much awake and so I just stayed up.

It wasn't long before I started to feel bad too. We both called in sick and then endured what was a very difficult day. I seemed to take it a bit harder than she did. Frequent visits to the facilities and a general feeling of weakness makes a lousy parent. So how do you handle having both parents sick and the child seemingly doing fine?

Well in my case, I pretty much watched my wife handle everything. She was great and it's a good thing because I was laid up. I lost over 7 pounds yesterday. Now that is a powerful virus. I'm still not 100% today. My breakfast of Jell-O, saltines and Sprite has me feeling a little bit nauseous.

Now comes the truly scary part in waiting to see if our son gets it. I sincerely hope not. As rough as it was for me, his 28 year old father, I can't imagine how hard it would be for a 6 1/2 month old.

How Do They Do It?

I don't know how these father's do it.

I'm talking about the ones who just ignore their children and toss everything onto the young mother. The audacity it takes to say "Let her do it" is as selfish as it is stupid.

I know of a guy who is taking just such a stance with his first child. I think the blame can be spread onto both parents here. He's a selfish and naive sort to put himself and his "needs" ahead of those of the baby and mother. I've been raised to believe and have understood from scripture that the true meaning of love has more to do with serving the ones you love than feeling butterflies in your stomach.

The mother owns some blame too for letting this happen. If there's ever a justifiable time to be selfish for a woman, it's after giving birth. I know she's still sore, I know her body is recovering from the most radical and rapid changes it will ever incur, and I know that caring for an infant is exhausting.

I'm no sage and my wisdom is more than offset by my ignorance, but I'm old and wise enough to see that these are not only formative years for my son, but for me and my character as I grow into the man I'll be for the rest of my life. I feel angry toward and sorry for those men who take the first few years off. Shame on you for missing changes that occur faster than a J-lo relationship. And what a pity that will never be able to relive or recreate the many, many moments that make each day of parenthood worthwhile.

Now, someone help me off this soapbox.

Roadtrippin...

"Roadtrippin with my two favorite allies/Fully loaded we got snacks and supplies..." -Red Hot Chili Peppers.

We have now been on two road trips with our son, who is now 6 1/2 months old. The first in February when he was only three months, we loaded up and headed from our home in Kentucky to Tampa, Florida. Nothing like a nice 11-12 hour car ride with an infant.

Our son travels pretty well overall. He slept most of that trip down and good deal of it back. (Car rides are like Thanksgiving dinner for babies...a tip that will serve new parents well.) That is not to say the trip was without incident. It certainly was not.

When your child is breastfeeding, long car rides are difficult. We did our best by parking in the back corners of parking lots and trying to stay mostly out of the way so my wife could have some privacy. (Note to self...get windows tinted in the car.)

The most fun on the first trip was the poop explosion. Of course you know its going to happen. Our worst one occurred on the drive home. I had ran inside of a convenient store while my wife was feeding our son in the back of the parking lot. As I walked back to the car, she popped the trunk without saying a word. Cleaning off a child and changing his clothes in a Ford Taurus should be an Olympic event. As should the Tetris like effort of stacking luggage, play yards, extra diapers, wipes, etc in the back of said Taurus.

Road trip number two was a relatively short jaunt to Birmingham just two weeks ago. The key to roadtripping with a baby is let that baby sleep. I don't understand the parents who are so schedule oriented that they'll wake a baby up and make him eat, or change his diaper. Here's some knowledge for you parents: When babies are tired, babies will sleep. How would you like your spouse waking you up at 3 AM and saying, "Honey, don't you want to go eat a snack right now?"

RT2 was completely without incident, and for that I'm thankful. We conquered our fears of roadtripping with a baby. So if you're scared, don't be. Just take lots of diapers, tons of wipes and always have an extra outfit handy for the poop explosions. The rest is cream cheese.

Teething or Seething?

Is my son teething little, painful, nearly invisible teeth? Or does he simply seeth at the thought of listening to preachers preach?

My happy, joyful son seems to be in a good mood 80-90% of the time. But when we sit in a pew for a nice Sunday sermon it seems like the kid always ends up fussy. This weekend we made a trip to Birmingham, AL to see some friends. My boy was pretty good in his first ever bible class. Then he sucked down a bottle and fell asleep when we began worship service.

Then out of nowhere he woke up during the sermon and started fussing. It's one thing for a baby to be fussy. But when my poor, abused wife took him to the nursery he went hog wild. Thankfully the nursery was very well insulated against sound. But you could still hear him screaming at the top of his lungs.

So either we need Anbesol or the services of two priests armed with holy water. The saga continues.

Missed It By That Much

The first mother's day for a new parent is a trial. You can't come up short with your gift. It's a bit unnerving until you are finally blessed with that idea that will make you a gift-hero.

Many men are confused about what a good mother's day gift ought to be. There's something to be said for decking out your wife in some high quality jewelry (bling, as the kids call it.) And there's certainly something to be said for the overused, yet often appreciated, gift of a baby booty charm with the child's birth stone in it.

But jewelry is not your only option my friends. Good thing too, since I can scarcely afford to get the jewelry that comes out of the quarter machines at Wal-Mart, let alone anything of significant value. No instead I was forced to be sneaky, and resourceful.

I asked myself, "What makes my wife happy?" Answer: our son and trips to Red Lobster. I got it half right, but going to Red Lobster on Mother's Day is like waiting for the new roller coaster at your favorite theme park. NO THANK YOU.

So I did what any double-naught spy would do. I snuck my son out of day-care and went to have our portrait taken. I'm going to do something now I've never done before. I'm going to reccommend Wal-Mart. That's right, Wal-Mart. I was impressed. I had a 12:30 appointment (this was done on my one hour lunch break) and it went great. Great pictures, great surprise, great gift and my son was brilliant. He was smiling from ear to ear in each of the seven poses.

I couldn't manage to keep the pictures from my wife until Mother's Day. I tried. I stayed strong up until the proverbial twelfth hour, but I broke Saturday night and showed them to her.

Job well done Daddy. I'm rather proud of myself, I must say.

S.O.S., Save Our Son (from sickness)

The cold that will not end...hasn't ended. My son still has a little rattle in his chest and is still coughing quite a bit. He's begun antibiotics. We didn't want to do that, but this cough has lingered long enough.

Dr. Speeddoctor, our pediatrician, recommended Robitussin CF. It's for cough and congestion. Sounds good right? Notsomuch. Aiden hates it. At first he'd spit out a little of it. Then he'd spit it all out. Then I held his cheeks so he couldn't spit it out (and BOY did that make him mad.) Then last night he'd spit the second it hit his mouth.

So I'm asking for help. I know the readers of this blog are few and far between, but if you do read it and you have a suggestion to help us get our son to take this cough medicine I am open to it. I'm flunking Cough Medicine 101 at this point. Please use the comments field to offer tips.

Cold Update

My son is STILL dealing with his cold. It's lowered down into his chest which means lots and lots of coughing. My brother knows what that is like with my nephew. God bless them, it's tough. But it gives me opportunity to talk about a new phenomenon. Speed doctoring.

I love our pediatrician. He's great. A man of Indian descent (accent indicates he probably is an immigrant actually) who is very competent and relays a feeling of calm. He encourages questions, which any good pediatrician would. Then he gives his answers...in light speed.

To say this man talks fast is like saying that Rosie ODonnell is curious. He zooms through diagnoses and suggested treatment. I'm sure I've never talked for more than 3 minutes with him. Friday we took our son in to check on this lingering cold. In less than one minute he checked him out, told us it was a cold that would run its course, suggested Robitussin CF, told us to pat him on the back with some effort to loosen things up, said he doesn't like to prescribe anitbiotics to infants, said if he's not better by Monday give him a call and he'll call him in a prescription.

And one minute might be stretching it. He could have worked in a monologue on the impending nuclear tensions with Iran and provided definitive proof that there was a second shooter on the grassy knoll.

There's usually not a long wait for our Doctor (in doctor hours that is.) Normal doctors in my experience can get you into an exam room and they'll see you within the hour. If you're lucky. The pediatrician is usually in the room within 10-15 minutes at the very latest and then you're walking out the door not 5 minutes later. So there are no long doctor visits for our son. Which any parent will tell you, ROCKS!

So the update on Aiden's cold is that he's still fighting it, and it's winning. But hopefully today will turn it all around.

Choosing Who To Support

There’s a time in every young man’s life when he must choose where his loyalties will lay. When he lays aside infatuations and affinities and gives himself fully to only one. When the opinions of others are mere buzzing flies swirling around his head to distract him from what his heart knows to be right. When he must choose which college basketball program to be a fan of.

For our son, that was at his birth. Acting on his behalf, we chose our alma mater Western Kentucky University. He’s already appeared in the Alumni magazine for WKU, dressed in a WKU sleeper alongside WKU mascot Big Red and next to a WKU towel.

And this weekend we added to his convictions (of which he is unaware) by dressing him in another WKU outfit. An outfit bought by friends of ours who work for WKU and have their season tickets right next to ours.

Freedom of choice is overrated.

And Now Introducing...CARROTS!

Ah the simple joys of parenting. Not the least of which is laughing yourself silly at the expense of the little one whose motor skills are not quite at professional athlete level. Dexterity is something I think we take for granted. Seeing a kid grab a spoon probably has very little effect on the non-parent. But for a first time mom or dad, it's as exciting as getting the IRS refund check.

Our son has been eating cereal for several weeks, as you've seen. And now he has ventured into the wonderful world of vegetables. Now that he's eaten and enjoyed two different kinds of vegetables (squash and carrots) he's pretty much eating more than his uncle who consumes only french fries (which don't count) and corn.

Ok, his uncle probably eats more vegetables than that, but it's not much more. I suspect nephew will surpass uncle by the end of the month. He's taken to vegetables very well. I sincerely hope he grows to like a lot of them. Because I want him to be very healthy? Sure, I suppose that's true. But mostly because a can of Green Giant is much cheaper than a pound of beef. It's all about the bottom line baby!

Cold Tag

No, cold tag is not a run and chase game played in the snow. It's when one family member catches a cold, passes it to another, who passes it to another, who passes it to yet another. You get the idea.

My wife's job exposes her to quite a bit of sickness from time to time. She works in the social work field and so is exposed to many people who aren't 100% healthy and often aren't 100% clean. So she picked up a cold a couple weeks ago.

She gave the cold to our son.

Our son gave the cold to me.

Never one to leave a bad deed unpunished, it seems I've given it back to him.

It's no fun and I'm sure deep in her heart my wife resents me for giving him another cold. I'll take some of that responsibility. Let's just hope that this is the end of this cycle and that once he's rid of it, we expel cold bugs/viruses from our home for a while.

If Baby Ain't Happy, Ain't Nobody Happy

There's an old saying in the South that says "If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy." The opposite is not necessarily true. But this saying holds up pretty well in most homes I've ever seen. When the mother is happy, things are carefree and joyful. When someone puts a bee in Mommy's bonnet, then we're all in for a world of hurt.
This traditional wisdom ought to be applied to babies as well. In fact, it's much more true with the baby if you ask me. I've said before that a baby screaming at you right in your face is a difficult thing to take. Mainly because its so entirely foreign to us. If a guy came up to you in the grocery store and started screaming in your face, you'd punch him. You may not punch your baby. I repeat, you may not punch your baby.
A screaming, unhappy infant makes for many a long night for parents. The problem is two fold. On one side, there's the screaming infant which raises the tension in the household to a level of about 9 on a scale of 1 to 10. Then on the other side, and worsening matters significantly, there is the absolute ignorance as to what's causing this child's unhappiness. This amps that tension level up to about 98. That's not a typo. Nine. Eight. Ninety-eight!
I tell most people who are expecting or who are young parents the same thing. All the cliches you hear while expecting are absolutely true. Your life never will be the same. You really should have enjoyed your sleep. The baby does indeed run the home. But the funniest thing I heard was from my father. "If a baby's crying he's either hungry, tired, has a dirty diaper or he's in pain."
Finally, one cliche that is not true. I'll grant that 90% of the time or more, this saying holds up. But frankly there are times when the kid is fed, rested, dry and seemingly pain free that screams abound. Often from a face that was smiling only a nanosecond before. What do you do then? That's not rhetorical, I'd really like to know because most of what I tried didn't work.
My son is a usually happy baby. He can certainly pitch a fit like Roger Clemens pitches a fastball, but all in all he's jovial and funny. He scrunches his eyes and nose when he smiles big and it absolutely captures your heart. You have to smile back.
So the opposite is true for babies. "When baby's happy, everybody's happy." Why? Because the house is quiet, his smiles and laughs are infectious, and because a happy baby makes a happy mommy and then we're back to the original saying.
I work with a man who doesn't want to have children. He's in his early forties and has already had the operation where scalpels should never tread (that's a vasectomy operation for those who don't catch my drift.) I can't imagine a life with just me and my wife. And I am as crazy about my wife as Liza Minelli is just plain crazy. But while we are great together, we are complete with our child (and Lord willing more children later.)
If you lived 100 years of a life with no children and did everything you wanted to do, made all the money you wanted to make, what would you have at the end of it all? Where would your legacy be? To me, the greatest accomplishment anyone will ever do in their life is to raise a Christian child. That's my main goal. And if that's the only one I get accomplished, I'll consider all this a success. And the opposite is also true.

Bouncing Baby Boys and Itty Bitty Kitties

We've had our cat, Phoebe (after the Friend's character) for over three years now. We got her at the shelter not long after we got married (they called her Shimmer, which I still consider a great Fuel song, but a horrible pet name.)

Phoebe could probably be diagnosed as being feline bipolar, but she's family. So it was never a question of whether or not to keep her when our son was born. Obviously if problems had arisen that cat would have been on a Chinese menu faster than you can say Pu Pu Platter, but we weren't going to assume there would be a problem.

Several people cautioned us saying that cats would jump in the crib with newborns and "steal their breath." I'm not sure how that was to happen. But the implication was that the baby would be somehow endangered. After a little online research I, not surprisingly, found this to be an old wives tale.

Thus far there is not a lot of interaction between cat and kid. Our son is not even crawling yet so if Phoebe is the least bit uncomfortable, she just leaves. She's not at all confrontational anyway. But there have been times where she's licked his head or he's grabbed her fur. They acknowledge each other's existence in such ways.

Like children, every pet is different. So what happened in our case isn't necessarily what will happen in yours. But don't assume that your pets and you offspring can't coexist. There may be things that come up that force your hand (discontented animals, allergies, room, money, etc) but pets and babies have lived in harmony for eons. I see no reason for them to stop now.

Marriage Maintenance

Gentlemen, listen up. This next lesson is vital.

Just because you and your wife have brought a new life into this world doesn't mean your old life is over. That's a very generic statement that could be applied to a million different topics, but today we're discussing marriage maintenance.

Your wife was your whole world. You love her enough to have pledged yourself to her, so when the little one arrives your pledge still holds up. Here are some tips for you to maintain your loving relatioship. To make this fun, we'll use some song lyrics.

1. Counting Flowers on the Wall...Flowers guys. Flowers. There's no better way to have women respect you in a grocery store than to walk around with a bouquet of flowers. If you really want to hear them fall over from shock, tell them (when they ask, bragger) that there's no occassion.
WHAT?!? FLOWERS AT RANDOM?!? WHY, THAT'S JUST INSANE!
Easy baby. Flowers at random tell your wife several things. She's thought of when she's not in the same room with you. That she's appreciated. That you love her. That she's worth stopping on the way home after work, when all you want to do is crash on the couch. See how this works?
Price isn't the problem either. My wife is tickled pink when I buy Kroger bouqets for $5-10. It really is the thought that counts.

2. More Than Words...I always thought that song was about sex. I guess I was pretty immature when it came out. But now I think it was a little more tender than that. I've learned in life that love is a verb, not a noun. It's not the way you feel, its what you do to show her how you feel. And that doesn't have to mean a nice massage, foot rub, dinner and show kind of thing. Maybe it's renting her a movie she's wanted to see (and maybe you didn't.) It might be just cleaning the house when she's beat, because with a baby she will be worn out about 89% of the time. TAKING THE BABY. Just take the baby and play with him, change the diapers, give the baths, give the feedings if you can. Be a helpmate for your helpmate.

The following item is for mature audiences only.

3. I'll Make Love To You...I won't ruin this with personal stories, but I'll say this: Just because you've conceived a child doesn't mean you're done with sex. Your wife needs to feel that she's still attractive. (This won't be a problem, contrary to popular belief when the child is born your wife won't start wearing curlers and muu muus around the house. In fact, you may start finding her more attractive than ever before.) Be patient, after childbirth, it takes a while before your wife will be physically able to have sex.

OK, the kids can come back to the computer now.

I suppose there can be a lot more suggestions here. But remember throughout your marriage to respect your wife and be considerate of her feelings. Especially after childbirth. She'll be more emotional and she'll be more fragile. It's no time for you to let the added stress of a growing family cause you fly off the handle.

Alright, not too funny today, but I think useful.

Put on Your Sunday Best Kids, We're Going to Sears!

When you have your first child (and I suppose this pattern follows for every additional child you have) you are told one thing repeatedly by every mother, brother, sister, in-law and out-law you know. You must get pictures of the baby. And no, your puny 35mm camera will not do. And no, your $300 digital camera won't do either. You must take that child and spend beaucoup money on pictures made by "professionals."

First, let's discuss the loose language that leads people to call a Sears/JC Penney/WalMart/KMart employee a photography professional. What they really are is a retail employee with better equipment than you'll ever have. Now don't get me wrong, Laurie, our Sears associate, was very good. And she was patient, which was needed. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Our son was 5 months old on Friday and Saturday was his first trip to a photographer (ie, Sears.) My boss, who does photography as a hobby, did take some pictures when he was much younger, and they're great, but they were all at my home.

We dressed the boy up in a nice, Springy yellow outfit. He was as cute as ever. We loaded him in the car and made the 10 minute drive to Sears from our home. We weren't 2 minutes in when he started grunting. (For to-be-parents, that means he's pooping.) AND BOY DID HE! The grunting went on for several minutes, which is extremely bad.

I had minor feelings of alarm, thinking it was possible that he had pooped through the diaper and possibly ruined the outfit. We got to Sears and my wife (with a cold, God bless her) took him into the women's restroom and came out quickly saying only, "It's bad. It was dripping."

I took him because there was more room in the men's restroom. I had my wife run and tell them we were here, but we were delayed. So I laid him on the diaper deck to find that we had 3 measley little wet wipes. So I'm using wet paper towels to clean the boy who had pooped through the diaper, up his back, down his legs and into a pool in the bottom of his carseat. He's screaming like I'm beating him with a reed and the gentlemen passing in and out of the restroom were so helpful with their, "Somebody's not happy" comments.

After much work, I got him into a fresh diaper and a clean outfit (not nearly as cute.) He got one pose, one snap of the shutter before he spit up all over that shirt. Laurie (photographer) decided to do diaper shots. Way to think on your feet Laurie. So she and my wife did that while I ran out into Sears and bought more baby clothes. By this point he's tired of being changed and changed again, he's hot, he's just fussy. We managed to get in about 8 poses. Which is the minimum.

Most of the pictures are cute, which is a credit both to Laurie and to just how cute my son could be with a tiny bit of effort to smile or be in a good mood. And they did several "enhancements" which were great as well. But all told, it was a minor disaster. So the next time my mother, my sister-in-law, or anyone else demands pictures, I will punch them in the gut and walk away.

Changing Diapers

What's your favorite diaper changing technique?

My sister-in-law's response to a previous post (Better Peed Off than Peed On) got me thinking about this topic. To modify a Paul Simon lyric, "there must be 50 ways to change a diaper..."

1. Just Slip Out the Back Jack...This is the nickname I'll give my technique to stay consistent with the 50 Ways To Leave Your Lover theme. I like to place a new diaper, opened, under my son. So that it appears that you're getting ready to wrap him, diaper and all, in a fresh one. Then I quickly remove the old diaper and whip the front panel into place of the new diaper. Total exposed to air time: less than 1 second.

2. Make a New Plan Stan...we'll nickname Crystal's technique with this line. They like the idea of using an opened diaper like a catcher's mit for any oncoming pee. It's a nice technique. You always protect yourself that way. And if you're quick enough to bring it down to the baby's nether-regions, then you protect him as well. Total exposed to air time: various, but near 1 second.

3. You Don't Need to be Coy Roy...Avoiding the pee won't make it go away. If you're technique resembles a French Military stand (ie, retreat) please administer another technique and show some backbone.

Just Get Yourself Free. That's the name of the game. Technique's vary, but if it's effective, stick with it. If not, feel free to use mine. If you've got a different technique (and you've somehow found this site) then please pass it on through the comments portion. Until then, we'll close with more Paul Simon...

"Just hop on the bus, Gus. You don't need to discuss much. Just drop off the key, Lee and get yourself free."

Rice Cereal: It Sounds So Simple

Starting your child on solid foods seems simple. Mix a little breast milk or formula with some rice cereal in a thin consistency. Place on rubber tipped spoon. Place into baby's mouth. But that's where it all gets a little hairy.

Our son was not exactly receptive to the idea. It would hit his mouth and he'd push it out with his tongue. It would have been annoying if it weren't so funny to watch. This went on for a while. We actually gave up and put it off a week. Then when we started again, it wasn't much easier. He's slowly eased his way into it.

And to be completely honest, I only wrote this to post his picture. He's much, much better now. He doesn't fuss except when the spoon's not moving fast enough for his hunger. We went with the cereal a little bit thicker than was suggested. He likes to smack his gums and eat it that way. One more task tackled by the Super Parents.

Tuesday, Bloody Tuesday

There's nothing like being the parent that most often injurs the baby.

The first time I injured our son I was trying to carry him in his baby papasan from the computer room to the living room. I lost grip on one side of the papasan and dropped the whole thing. He tumbled out and hit his head. He screamed and screamed. I felt like the biggest jerk/clutz in the world. He calmed down after about 5-10 minutes (each minute passing slower than the average hour) and he showed no ill effects afterward.

Well today I cemented my place as top injurer. I was coming in from a nice morning run and my son was just waking up. He was typically giddy. I picked him up from the basinet and took him into the nursery. We had just changed his diaper when I noticed a big scratch on his face. The fingernails had gotten too long again, so I thought I'd trim them.

The doc recommends a pair of small scissors. A good eye by the old doc. However, I couldn't find said scissors, so I used the clippers. Very successfully I might add. Up until I was trimming one last fingernail (index finger on the left hand for those who like details.) I clipped, he cried, he bled. Oh boy did he bleed. I didn't previously know that apparently 90% of an infant's bloodflow is in his left index finger tip.

So I'm still in the lead. Still injurring my son at a far greater pace than my beautiful wife, who seems to do very little wrong. It's rather intimidating. But we're still struggling through. The little one stopped bleeding eventually and now I'm sure it's just sore.

By the way, if there's not already infant sized bandages on the market, someone needs to tap that idea and make millions.

Money II: A Frightening Prospect

In the last money post I talked about the importance of a budget. Well, when you do your budget, be prepared to see something you don't like.

Yesterday I laid out all my income vs all of my expenses. That revealed that we're spending more than we're making. That's bad news. Especially for a father. It's my biblical responsibility to care for this family. So I have to fix this.

There are three possible solutions:
1. Spend less money. Unfortunately, that's not a real option without selling a vehicle. Our vehicles are not lavish now. I'm not willing to trade down to a less dependable vehicle because I think it's more important to have something we can rely on.
2. Get a raise. Gee, that should be easy.
3. Get a second job.

The most likely solution is the third one. I don't want a second job. The thought of not being at home to give my son his nighttime feeding or to give him his bath nearly brings me to tears. But I'll do what I have to do for the sake of my family.

It's a real possibility for several people I'm sure. And I'm certainly not the first person to have to do this. But that doesn't make the medicine any sweeter.

I'd love to give some sage like advice here, but I'm tapped out today. Prayer, here I come.

Money

The proverbial root of all evil (actually it's the "love of money" that is given that distinction.)
Rich people have it and don't need it. Poor people want it and can't get it. I'm somewhere in between and getting much nearer the latter.

A very foolish thing I did while my wife was pregnant was failing to save for medical bills. They come from all sides. The birth of our son through Cesaerian section delivery, coupled with a few days in the hospital, and adding in the surgery my wife had not long after makes for lots of the pesky bills.

Hospitals are nice enough to send you bills a few at a time. They don't believe in saving trees in the medical profession. They'd rather send you one bill for this, one bill for that, and another bill for anything this or that might not have included.

In all seriousness the medical bills can get burdensome. Insurance helps, but doesn't eliminate the problem. You pay what you can and they won't repossess your house, but it does add to the stress factor. One of the early lessons learned in parenthood is how to control your stress levels and keep your frustration in check. That's a tough one to learn when you've got a screaming baby, a pile of bills and a worried wife.

Here are a few tips from an old pro (first baby, not even five montsh in and I think I'm a know-it-all!):
1. Get a good book before the baby is born. I recommend grabbing a copy of The Expectant Father as soon as you learn your wife is pregnant. Its a big help.
2. Listen to it. The book offers good advice on saving money and preparing for the birth. Don't be like me. Heed that advice and save up as much money as you can. I'd say somewhere near $2000-$3000 will put in you good shape with those med bills. Depending on your situation, that may be difficult. But do what you can.
3. If the med bills get to be a bit much, talk to them and try to set up a payment plan you can handle. Remember, they want their money, so it's in their interest to work with you.
4. Talk with your spouse. Be honest and open. Don't try to hide how things are and if you need to buckle down, discuss that with her. Pray about it, and work as a team. God gave us a helper for a reason.
5. Budget. I'm still working on this, and frankly, need to dedicate myself to it more thoroughly. I recommend software programs like Microsoft Money or Quicken. They will provide you with reports on how you're spending and help you construct a budget. Some even have debt reduction plans. Those are especially handy.

The Scare

What is fear? Simple, fear is the absence of knowledge. Yeah, that sounds profound and deep, but really to me there are few things more frightening than not knowing. When you're a new father, you are in an almost constant state of fear because the baby won't stop crying, or you don't hear him breathing, or you have no clue if you're doing anything at all correctly.But those are common fears and they come and go with time. I've been told that the subsequent children that follow your first are much easier because your fears become less and less a problem. Tuesday I had a rather uncommon fear.Let me preface this story by saying that in emergencies I tend to be very level headed on the outside and run every worst case scenario through my mind on the inside. Keeping that in mind, while at work on Tuesday, I got a frantic call from my wife. She had obviously been crying and still was. Her words were pained and her breath was short. Her voice trembled as she told me she had a pain in her chest, radiating through her back. She asked if I could come home, which of course, I did, dropping literally everything at work to rush home.For those familiar with Bowling Green, KY where I live and work, you'll appreciate this. I got from my job at the 31W end of Scottsville Road to Plano Road which is across I-65 and beyond Greenwood High school in literally six minutes. For perspective, it takes me about 15 to get to work each morning going that route.However, once on Plano road, I got locked behind a school bus letting kids out and the eight cars between me and the bus. I fought every urge to go around all nine vehicles on a blind hill because I had no idea what was happening with my wife and mother of my son. I did finally get home and found my wife in tears and agony. The last thing she had told me as I got off the phone was, "I can't take care of him (my son.)" So my thought was that she was having a panic attack. That turned out not to be the case, which scared me more because I think thought it was a heart problem.I called 911 for the first and hopefully last time in my life. The paramedics arrived and ruled out heart problems and decided to take her on to the hospital in the ambulance. I was to follow behind, but was cautioned if the ambulance turned on its lights and siren, not to try to keep up. When they left the drive, the siren came on and they were gone. I loaded my son into his car seat and sped to the hospital, staying just within sight of the ambulance.That leaves a man with too much time to think. My biggest fear was losing her in some way. I suppose that's every husband and father's biggest fear. For me I feel like it's amplified. My wife is the best thing short of salvation of my soul, to ever happen to me. And the two really aren't mutually exclusive because she keeps me inline and inspires me to be a better man, husband, Christian, and father.So what is fear? Fear is not knowing, for those few minutes, if your wife is ok. Fear is not knowing if you're going to be raising a 6 week old boy on your own. Fear is not knowing how life's pendulum is going to swing.My wife is ok. She's scheduled to have surgery on Tuesday to correct the problem, which turned out to be gall stones. It almost seems comical now, me thinking the worst and the problem turning out to be so minor, relatively. Fear like that is healthy I think. I appreciate my wife probably more than most men, but I do even moreso now. I look at my son and love him because of who he is and because he's part of my wife. And I want to try, even harder to be all of those things I mentioned.So while the new daddy diary has been fairly light-hearted thusfar, I wanted to get this all off my chest. I apprecaite you obliging me that. I hope none of you who might read this ever have to fear like I did Tuesday. But if you do, I hope God grants you the outcome He did us.

Pray Your Child Doesn't Get Colic

Why colic stinks, by Sivart WorfnerColic stinks because it is a generic term for a collection of symptoms, rather than a name for a condition. The symptoms aren't even necessarily present in every "case" of colic.Here are some signs that your newborn has colic and Aiden's status on each symptom.Excessive gas....checkSudden screaming....checkCrying for more near three hour increments...checkClinching of the arms and legs...checkThree or more of these "fits" per week...checkThat all adds up to Sivart being one very tired individual. And Mrs. Worfner is likely worse because she gets all that fun plus has to stay up feeding the baby. Bless her heart.How do you cure colic? Well, gee whiz, since we don't really even know what it is we can't cure it. I think it's basically another name for gassiness that has no obvious source. Mylicon drops can help the child get comfortable faster, but not that much faster.Basically, you wait. It tends to last around three weeks and is less prevalent in breast fed babies. Luckily we bucked that trend! It's a taxing time for the child without doubt, but the parents (especially first time parents) really struggle. Aiden's colic tends to hit him hard around 11 at night (when it lasts for about three hours, you do the math.)It's the toughest test of patience I've ever endured and I can CERTAINLY understand how a weak person could snap and shake the child. Never, ever would I condone it, but when you have a colicky child, you see the chinks in your own armor and you can understand.I love my son and thank God daily for him, but it's no cliche to say it's the toughest job you'll ever have.

Back When I Thought I'd Never Sleep Again

Post #4 from the Affect:

New Daddy Diary, Entry #3
Sleep?
What Sleep?!?!Among the hundreds of cliches parents endure during a pregnancy,
the most common is the, "Enjoy your sleep while you can" cliche. I, like every
father before me, appreciated the obvious advice but got very tired of hearing
the same things over and over.Nothing could have been more true than that cliche
however. Sleep has become a rare commodity, far more precious than gold. Me
complaining about my sleep is downright shameful when you consider the serious
lack of sleep my wife has to endure as a breastfeeding mother. Several times a
night she is up with him, changing, feeding, burping and rocking. The whole
ordeal last for nearly an hour. When that happens three or four times a night,
then you can see the problem.Mrs. Worfner and I had decided that Sunday morning
would be young Aiden's first trip to church services. On Saturday night and into
Sunday morning, Aiden changed our plans. He was very fussy all night, but at 3AM
he woke up and stayed up until 7:30. Needless to say, my wife and son didn't
accompany me to services that morning. Since I was only up for less than half of
that, I did manage to make it although I missed out on bible study before
services.I have the ability to sleep through my child's screams. I'm not
bragging, in fact, it's embarassing to me. My wife has accused me of ignoring
him, and deep down I think she believes I am. I tell you I am not. I told her
early on, just wake me up and I'll be glad to change him and do what I can. For
3 1/2 weeks she never would take me up on it. I'm glad to say she got over that
this weekend. And I truly am thankful. It helps alleviate some of my guilt for
not being able to do more.So all you soon to be fathers and potential parents,
enjoy your sleep now. It's a rarity when you become the parent of a newborn. At
least I'm at work now where I can catch up on my rest.

Peed off? Better than being peed on.

Post #3 from the Affect:

New Daddy Diary, Entry#2
I've never considered myself to be tolerant of
being urinated on. Throughout my life before parenthood I can honestly not
remember it ever happening to me, and I've never felt like I've missed out on
anything. RKelly jokes aside, it's just not appealing to have someone else's
waste poured on you.I have the distinct honor of being the first parent to be
baptized by our son. The maiden voyage on the U.S.S.P.P happened during his
first bath. He was laying on a towel on the sink and both of us had turned our
heads for just a moment when my shoulder felt suddenly warm, then moist. How did
I react, naturally I put my hand up, changed my shirt and moved on with little
more than a chuckle.Since we have learned the lesson that little boys will
urinate upon immediate contact with air. Thus removing the diaper becomes an act
of skill. My son has peed on himself already more times than I care to mention.
Face, hair, belly, arms, back. He has expressed his displeasure with our choice
of window blinds and paint color in a like manner. To save yet another cleaning
of the wall, I have elected to have my hand covered in pee more than once.I'm
getting quicker with the new diaper as well, but then you've wasted a diaper.
And while diapers aren't comparable to rare coinage in value, I'm too miserly to
throw anything away. No, before you ask, I don't put it on anyway, I just hate
throwing a slightly damp diaper away. So I resist the urge to let it air dry and
throw it in the Diaper Genie anyway. And I sulk.It's amazing the things you
become accustomed to. Being peed on. Cleaning someone else's anus. Being spit up
on. Ear bloodying screams. And we're not even four weeks in. Think of what I'll
become numb to next week.

The Incident

Also taken from "The Affect" this is what I wrote describing one of the more frightening times in my life. Several of the early entries here will be copies from the Affect by the way. New Daddy Diary, Entry #1
As faithful readers of this blog know, I
became a first time father on November 14th at? (anyone? anyone?) 7:43PM. In the
future for as long as it's interesting and as long as I can remember, I'll chronicle some of the more notable goings on in my recently expanded family.
On Sunday night I stayed home with Aiden while Mrs. Worfner went to church services. (I had gone that morning.) He was asleep virtually the entire time in his "Papasan." Which is basically a metal frame with cloth stretched over it that he lays in. It vibrates, it plays music, it vibrates and plays music simultaneously! Fascinating device.
Rather than pick him up and risk waking him, I carried him Papasan and all into the computer room for some internet time on Hilltopper Haven. After a while that got old, so I picked him up, Papasan and all, and carried him back toward the living room. Stopping to turn the light out when I lost my grip on the right side of the Papasan. it dropped straight to the floor and he tumbled out knocking his sweet, innocent head on the floor.
I'm sure every parent at some point in their child's infancy drops the kid or does something to potentially injur them. At least that's what people have told me to console me. It seems reasonable that unless you're Jerry Rice (great hands) then you might do that.
He screamed a paint peeling yell and cried for a solid 12 minutes seemingly without breathing. The thoughts that run through your head at that point are paralyzing. Is he brain damaged? Where's the soft spot? Did his eyes look like that before? What's the red place?
Mrs. Worfner came home at precisely the time Aiden stopped crying. I confessed anyway and then turned down dinner (for a little while anyway) because I honestly thought I'd be sick if I could just calm down enough to puke.Luckily Aiden's perfectly fine and I've not yet been investigated for body slammed baby syndrome.
Stop by next time for:Aiden's growing like a heatlhy babyorBouncy, Bouncy, Bouncy, CRACK!!
Thought for the day (provided by a fellow Havenite, Swordfish)"The diapers say 8-10
pounds, but they don't hold half that much."

The Presentation

This is a post from my other blog, Incongruent-Affect. It was the one where we showed our son off to the world. I think this is a good place to start.

Liz and I are proud to announce the birth of Aiden Christopher on
11/14/2005 at 7:43PM. He weighed in at 7lbs 9.5 ozs and he was 19 inches
long.
Both baby and mother are healthy and happy, praise God.
I don't typically get too preachy, especially on here, but the birth of a child is proof of God in my eyes. I pity those who see it as anything less.