Being a parent gives new meaning to the term disposable income. There's the clothes she wears once before pooping all over or growing out of them. And of course there's all the gear you need to buy that she'll soon to be too big for or have no use for. But I'm not even talking about that. I'm talking stuff you buy that's as good as garbage the second you bring it home.
Diapers. Man, diapers are expensive. We've even recently gone to the generic brand- they may not have recognizable characters from popular children's TV programs- but they work. And they're a lot cheaper. But they're not exactly what I'd call inexpensive, in the grand scheme of things. And think- they're designed to be used once, and tossed. Same could be said for wipes- which we just tried the generic, and the kibosh was put on that one by the wife. They just didn't feel right, or something... a price can be put on some things. But I digress- we buy the stuff, we throw it away. We by more of the stuff- we throw it away. With alarming frequency. She's a baby: she poops and pees a lot- she's supposed to, I get- but it really does feel like we're throwing away money. The alternative, of course, you may tell me is re-usable cloth diapers. To which I respond: show me two parents who also work full time, and don't own their own washer-dryer that have time to launder cloth diapers, and I will ask the them for the device they use that freezes time, because it would be really useful. But in all seriousness- I'd rather throw the away the money, and hold onto at least a shred of sanity- I'm being realistic here. I'm complaining, but I'm being realistic.
Baby formula. Forget diapers. Formula makers of the world... that's where the money is at!! And forget the name brand stuff- we started using the generic stuff as soon as we ran out of the free samples of the brand stuff. After all, the doctor told us the generic stuff is just as good- so, say no more. That said, the generic formula- like their diaper cousin- although cheaper than the alternative, is not inexpensive. But a baby's gotta eat right? Tell her that. Our little K doesn't always like to eat despite all signs pointing to the fact that she's hungry. And the formula label tells you when you must discard unused formula: If it's untouched, 2 hours at room temp or 24 hours in the fridge. But it's never untouched. And if she starts to drink it, thereby mixing her saliva in- it must be consumed in one hour or it needs to be tossed. Even if we don't stay hard and fast to exactly an hour (we try and stretch out a little) we wind up throwing away a good deal of formula. I mean, you want to believe that it's still good for two or three hours, but you also know it's your baby's well-being that's at stake, and you don't want to play around with that. It's just not always easy to tell just how hungry she is- so we'll try and make a little at a time- but of course if she wants more, you have to interrupt her feeding to make a little more, then a little more. Not the best course of action for anybody involved. So when you go on good faith that, yes, she'll polish off 6 oz. this time around- that's when she only feels like taking 2.5... and then falling asleep for just longer than window of time you feel comfortable saving the bottle for. Sigh.
There's no escaping the above expenses. And if you told me I had to throw away crisp $100 bills in order to maintain the well-being of our little girl, I would do it a heartbeat. No question. But it doesn't make it any easier to stomach, financially. And hey, all this is moot if we strike it rich- I'm looking at you, lottery gods (so what if we don't actually play). In the meanwhile we'll be knee-deep in diapers and formula for the foreseeable future; even if our pile of money doesn't reach quite that high.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Confessions of a new dad, vol. 16: Conversation Starter
Living in New York, making small talk with strangers is not something you have to go out of your way to do. In the elevator, on the train- nothing earth-shattering, just small talk. Since becoming a parent, I feel I have become even more small-talkative, especially when I encounter other parents with their small children.
I've always liked seeing babies and small kids while I'm out and about. I'd even make the occasional funny face, or wave at them, or smile at the parent- so as to say your child is cute... Now that I'm a parent though, it's not just mindless talk-about-the-weather stuff, it's also about information gathering. How old? is the first question. Notice the lack of a pronoun attached to the question; often times one can't tell by look if the baby is a boy or girl. Then I offer the information that I have new baby girl at home myself, so as to show I am not just a creepy guy on the train asking questions about their baby. Sometimes the conversation ends there, and we wish each other luck and go on our merry way. But sometimes it goes deeper. Weight, length, developmental stages are all subjects that can be delved into within minutes of striking up this conversation with a complete stranger or strangers.
Nothing truly personal is usually exchanged. In fact- even though I usually walk away knowing the name of the child- nine times out of ten I will not have asked the parents' names. And it doesn't necessarily feel like I should have, either. It's enough that we we had this moment -on the train, in the deli, on the street- as if to remind ourselves we're not fumbling around alone in this new thing we call parenthood. A little small talk can go a long way.
I've always liked seeing babies and small kids while I'm out and about. I'd even make the occasional funny face, or wave at them, or smile at the parent- so as to say your child is cute... Now that I'm a parent though, it's not just mindless talk-about-the-weather stuff, it's also about information gathering. How old? is the first question. Notice the lack of a pronoun attached to the question; often times one can't tell by look if the baby is a boy or girl. Then I offer the information that I have new baby girl at home myself, so as to show I am not just a creepy guy on the train asking questions about their baby. Sometimes the conversation ends there, and we wish each other luck and go on our merry way. But sometimes it goes deeper. Weight, length, developmental stages are all subjects that can be delved into within minutes of striking up this conversation with a complete stranger or strangers.
Nothing truly personal is usually exchanged. In fact- even though I usually walk away knowing the name of the child- nine times out of ten I will not have asked the parents' names. And it doesn't necessarily feel like I should have, either. It's enough that we we had this moment -on the train, in the deli, on the street- as if to remind ourselves we're not fumbling around alone in this new thing we call parenthood. A little small talk can go a long way.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Confessions of a new dad, vol. 15: Gift of grab
One of the great developmental milestones any child achieves early on is learning how to reach and grab things. It's tough not to be bowled over by my little one when she I see the look in her eyes as she reaches out for something and takes it into her tiny little hands. But the curiosity and wonderment that just weeks ago was so adorable and endearing, can turn decidedly not as much so when accompanied by gained dexterity.
Cute: When she reaches out to touch your face.
Not as cute: When she grabs your bottom lip, digs those little nails in, and pulls with all her might.
Cute: During feeding when she reaches out and holds onto the bottle.
Not as cute: During feeding when she reaches out and grabs a hold of the spoon and holds on with a death-grip, threatening to fling whatever it holds asunder.
Cute: When she notices the TV remote, and paws at it like a new toy.
Not as cute: When she grabs the remote off the couch and changes the channel with her mouth at the most inopportune time.
Oh, who am I kidding? That last one is friggin adorable. And really so are the others listed above under the "Not as cute" category for that matter. The one one thing she's always known how to grab is my heart. And I fear that her dexterity in that department will only get sharper and sharper in the months and years ahead.
Cute: When she reaches out to touch your face.
Not as cute: When she grabs your bottom lip, digs those little nails in, and pulls with all her might.
Cute: During feeding when she reaches out and holds onto the bottle.
Not as cute: During feeding when she reaches out and grabs a hold of the spoon and holds on with a death-grip, threatening to fling whatever it holds asunder.
Cute: When she notices the TV remote, and paws at it like a new toy.
Not as cute: When she grabs the remote off the couch and changes the channel with her mouth at the most inopportune time.
Oh, who am I kidding? That last one is friggin adorable. And really so are the others listed above under the "Not as cute" category for that matter. The one one thing she's always known how to grab is my heart. And I fear that her dexterity in that department will only get sharper and sharper in the months and years ahead.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Confessions of a new dad, vol. 14: Feeding the baby... and the soul
I remember the weeks leading up to the delivery of our child. I was pretty sure I was going to be bawling my eyes out when she came out, the emotional climax of quite a journey. As it turns out, there was a lot going on at the moment her birth, and it wound up being more a whirlwind. The surreality of it all didn't really give me the opportunity to have that cathartic moment, lost in tears of joy.
It did, however, come a little more than 24 hours later. While my wife's breast milk was still coming in, we decided along with the nurses we'd supplement the little one's feeding with a some formula. That gave me my first opportunity to feed our little wonder. She opened her mouth, started sucking on the bottle and our eyes locked. Well, I completely lost it. Tears galore. There was just something so intimate about the fact I was literally providing our child- this little girl who had been inside my wife not hours ago. Whom I had not met before yesterday, but somehow knew my whole life. And although she probably didn't know what or who she was looking at, her gaze catching mine made it all the more special and momentous.
Now that the process has been repeated and repeated, and will be repeated and repeated, again and again- it's easy to lose that feeling of connectedness. There's nothing like feeding your child, but it's that aha moment where everything in world makes sense and nothing else matters that can be missing. But the other night, both of us fighting to stay awake- me to feed her, she to eat- she reached up and grabbed my finger and just held on for the rest of her feeding. While there weren't tears, I was certainly taken back to that night in the hospital. Her little fingers grasping mine, is all it takes to change what can come to feel like a chore at times into something I'd rather do above all else. And as we start her on solid foods- a whole new ballgame- moments like those are going to come fewer and farther between before I know it. I've got to hold onto to those gazes, and those little fingers for as long I can.
It did, however, come a little more than 24 hours later. While my wife's breast milk was still coming in, we decided along with the nurses we'd supplement the little one's feeding with a some formula. That gave me my first opportunity to feed our little wonder. She opened her mouth, started sucking on the bottle and our eyes locked. Well, I completely lost it. Tears galore. There was just something so intimate about the fact I was literally providing our child- this little girl who had been inside my wife not hours ago. Whom I had not met before yesterday, but somehow knew my whole life. And although she probably didn't know what or who she was looking at, her gaze catching mine made it all the more special and momentous.
Now that the process has been repeated and repeated, and will be repeated and repeated, again and again- it's easy to lose that feeling of connectedness. There's nothing like feeding your child, but it's that aha moment where everything in world makes sense and nothing else matters that can be missing. But the other night, both of us fighting to stay awake- me to feed her, she to eat- she reached up and grabbed my finger and just held on for the rest of her feeding. While there weren't tears, I was certainly taken back to that night in the hospital. Her little fingers grasping mine, is all it takes to change what can come to feel like a chore at times into something I'd rather do above all else. And as we start her on solid foods- a whole new ballgame- moments like those are going to come fewer and farther between before I know it. I've got to hold onto to those gazes, and those little fingers for as long I can.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Confessions of a new dad, vol. 13: Walking the plank(s)
Growing up in the city, our little girl has grown accustomed to the sounds of garbage trucks passing, sirens blaring, dogs barking, or the crunch of an occasional fender-bender floating up into the windows of our apartment. More often than not, if she's sleeping none of these sounds cause her to stir. Even summer thunderstorms have passed without rousing her. But there's one sound that seems to disturb her with great regularity: the squeaking floor boards in our apartment.
We are blessed with a good deal of space for a New York apartment, and don't pay anywhere near market value thanks to rent-stabilization, and the fact that my wife has been residing in it for well over a decade. But as the case in a lot of New York apartments, she came in as sublet, and the people that were there before her were there for a while- so when she finally was added to the lease, it was just a continuation of the previous tenants' lease agreements. Good news? Rent-stabilization. Bad news? There hasn't been any serious work done in our apartment for who knows how long, and, short of moving all of our stuff out of the place, it's not going to happen anytime soon.
We're not just talking about a creaky spot here or there. A good deal of the floors in our place squeak and groan when stepped on- in pretty much every room. In our little one's room we laid down a nice thick area rug, not only for decorative purposes, but in the hopes that it would muffle the creakiness of the floors. Well, it was a nice thought, anyway.
When putting our little girl down for a nap, or for the night- we have to choose our path out wisely so as not to hit a loud spot and stir her. Even more dicey a situation is when she is already asleep and we are going in to check on her, because that involves both an entrance and exit. And don't fool yourself into thinking just because you found a reasonably creak-free route on the way in it's going to be the same on the way out. Tip-toeing doesn't really do the trick, either- that's good to mask a footfall, but once the weight of your foot goes into the floorboard, it's curtains... well, floorboards. I'm thinking maybe what we need is a simple zip-wire, or even a Tarzan rope which will allow entry into the room with having to put our feet on the floor... although that might pose a problem when putting her in the crib... I mean I suppose we could practice with a doll first... Okay, okay... maybe some sort of conveyor belt...
Until we have one of those devices installed , a very common conversation in our house will continue to be: "I'm going to go check on her." "Okay, don't wake her." We'll just have to count on the floorboard-gods to show us the us path as we enter the room to check on sleeping beauty... and then hope that a garbage truck smashes into a parked car outside when we do, so she won't be disturbed.
We are blessed with a good deal of space for a New York apartment, and don't pay anywhere near market value thanks to rent-stabilization, and the fact that my wife has been residing in it for well over a decade. But as the case in a lot of New York apartments, she came in as sublet, and the people that were there before her were there for a while- so when she finally was added to the lease, it was just a continuation of the previous tenants' lease agreements. Good news? Rent-stabilization. Bad news? There hasn't been any serious work done in our apartment for who knows how long, and, short of moving all of our stuff out of the place, it's not going to happen anytime soon.
We're not just talking about a creaky spot here or there. A good deal of the floors in our place squeak and groan when stepped on- in pretty much every room. In our little one's room we laid down a nice thick area rug, not only for decorative purposes, but in the hopes that it would muffle the creakiness of the floors. Well, it was a nice thought, anyway.
When putting our little girl down for a nap, or for the night- we have to choose our path out wisely so as not to hit a loud spot and stir her. Even more dicey a situation is when she is already asleep and we are going in to check on her, because that involves both an entrance and exit. And don't fool yourself into thinking just because you found a reasonably creak-free route on the way in it's going to be the same on the way out. Tip-toeing doesn't really do the trick, either- that's good to mask a footfall, but once the weight of your foot goes into the floorboard, it's curtains... well, floorboards. I'm thinking maybe what we need is a simple zip-wire, or even a Tarzan rope which will allow entry into the room with having to put our feet on the floor... although that might pose a problem when putting her in the crib... I mean I suppose we could practice with a doll first... Okay, okay... maybe some sort of conveyor belt...
Until we have one of those devices installed , a very common conversation in our house will continue to be: "I'm going to go check on her." "Okay, don't wake her." We'll just have to count on the floorboard-gods to show us the us path as we enter the room to check on sleeping beauty... and then hope that a garbage truck smashes into a parked car outside when we do, so she won't be disturbed.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Confessions of a new dad, vol. 12: Other children's parents
Being a parent, one can't help but observe (and okay, maybe judge a little) the acts and practices of other parents. As a fellow parent, there is a level of sympathy and understanding when it comes to dealing with someone else's unruly or noisy child in a public situation- but there are limits. When I'm out in public trying to feed my little girl, or trying to calm her so as to avoid a melt down I'm not unrealistic in my desires. I understand that silence or even reasonable quiet is not going to happen, but when some reasonable facsimile of it is spoiled by the actions of another child- I have no patience. And while it's easy to find yourself annoyed at the offending party, the ire shouldn't directed at the child- who, let's face it, is only acting like a child- but at the parent, who can tend to be either encouraging the calamity or allowing it to take place by indifference.
I'm not talking about the parent with the crying baby. Or with the toddler who wants something and isn't getting his way. Those are situations where can be more or less out of the parents control and everyone around needs to just ride wave. No I'm talking about the parents oblivious to polite society- or at the very least oblivious to the presence of others in the world.
Like the parent who permits their child to ride around the store in perhaps the squeakiest- no, piercing-est sounding tricycle in the history of squeaky tricycles. Like really loud. And I'm across the store thinking- how is that not bothering you? How is is it you can continue to talk amongst yourselves as your child makes my ears bleed and disturbs my daughter's peacefulness. And maybe that's the only thing keeping their child from melting down, but you know what? It's not working for me. Don't "fix" your problem by potentially causing one for me. Not cool.
Same goes for the guy who's keeping his kid entertained to the point where it's annoying. He's either making too much noise himself, or getting his kid so riled up that the squeals and giggles start to resemble that tricycle. I mean, I applaud your attentiveness to your child- but remember you are in a public place, and not everyone in the world needs to be reminded of just what sound a piggy makes over and over again.
But worst of all is the parent whose child can do no wrong. Who celebrates their child's behavior when there's no cause for it. Like the older brother of one of my little girl's day-care mates. Old enough to know better (I'm guessing 8 or 9), this kid was constantly sticking his face right up to my little one's face, and tossing her stuffed bunny into her stroller at her as if she was expected to catch it. "Oh let's not do that," I'm saying trying to sound as playful and non-threatening possible, all the while hoping for a little assistance from his mother. And although she was talking to the day-care lady, she she was not far away and could plainly see what was happening. All I got though was a smile, as if we were all playing some fun game. And when her kid proceeded to stick his dirty hands (no exaggeration, there was dirt caked under his nails) into my daughters my mouth I said much louder and sterner, "All right no hands in the mouth please," when what I really wanted to do was smack the kid into next week. All the while I am trying to make my way by the kid in the narrow hallway so I can get to the elevator and home. But to my dismay I am delayed long enough so we all have to share the elevator ride together. Me, my little girl, her day-care mate and his oblivious mom, and Dirty McFilthyhands the older brother. In the elevator he continues to lean over and stick his face into my daughter's stroller thereby encouraging his little brother to do the same. Keeping one eye on them and trying to fend them off, I look to the mom for some sort of reprieve but all she says is "Oh, he loves little babies- he's such a good big brother!" I want to scream. Are we riding the same elevator?!! Are we on the same planet??!!
Now I am certainly not telling anyone how to parent their own children- just as it pertains to and affects my little one. Do whatever you want in your home and your lives, as long as I don't have to compensate for your seeming lack of social perception. I just hope that I can impart to my daughter that a little respect of your surroundings goes along way.
I'm not talking about the parent with the crying baby. Or with the toddler who wants something and isn't getting his way. Those are situations where can be more or less out of the parents control and everyone around needs to just ride wave. No I'm talking about the parents oblivious to polite society- or at the very least oblivious to the presence of others in the world.
Like the parent who permits their child to ride around the store in perhaps the squeakiest- no, piercing-est sounding tricycle in the history of squeaky tricycles. Like really loud. And I'm across the store thinking- how is that not bothering you? How is is it you can continue to talk amongst yourselves as your child makes my ears bleed and disturbs my daughter's peacefulness. And maybe that's the only thing keeping their child from melting down, but you know what? It's not working for me. Don't "fix" your problem by potentially causing one for me. Not cool.
Same goes for the guy who's keeping his kid entertained to the point where it's annoying. He's either making too much noise himself, or getting his kid so riled up that the squeals and giggles start to resemble that tricycle. I mean, I applaud your attentiveness to your child- but remember you are in a public place, and not everyone in the world needs to be reminded of just what sound a piggy makes over and over again.
But worst of all is the parent whose child can do no wrong. Who celebrates their child's behavior when there's no cause for it. Like the older brother of one of my little girl's day-care mates. Old enough to know better (I'm guessing 8 or 9), this kid was constantly sticking his face right up to my little one's face, and tossing her stuffed bunny into her stroller at her as if she was expected to catch it. "Oh let's not do that," I'm saying trying to sound as playful and non-threatening possible, all the while hoping for a little assistance from his mother. And although she was talking to the day-care lady, she she was not far away and could plainly see what was happening. All I got though was a smile, as if we were all playing some fun game. And when her kid proceeded to stick his dirty hands (no exaggeration, there was dirt caked under his nails) into my daughters my mouth I said much louder and sterner, "All right no hands in the mouth please," when what I really wanted to do was smack the kid into next week. All the while I am trying to make my way by the kid in the narrow hallway so I can get to the elevator and home. But to my dismay I am delayed long enough so we all have to share the elevator ride together. Me, my little girl, her day-care mate and his oblivious mom, and Dirty McFilthyhands the older brother. In the elevator he continues to lean over and stick his face into my daughter's stroller thereby encouraging his little brother to do the same. Keeping one eye on them and trying to fend them off, I look to the mom for some sort of reprieve but all she says is "Oh, he loves little babies- he's such a good big brother!" I want to scream. Are we riding the same elevator?!! Are we on the same planet??!!
Now I am certainly not telling anyone how to parent their own children- just as it pertains to and affects my little one. Do whatever you want in your home and your lives, as long as I don't have to compensate for your seeming lack of social perception. I just hope that I can impart to my daughter that a little respect of your surroundings goes along way.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Confessions of a new dad, vol. 11: I just might snap
You know who should win the Nobel Prize for cruel and unusual punishment? The person who invented/ designed the snap up pajamas that our little one wears. They have little snaps up and down the legs,
sometimes all the way up the front. They're great and all- they keep her toasty and she looks cute as a button in them- and it makes it easy to get them off for a quick diaper change, getting them snapped back up and
fastened and situated can prove to be quite challenging. Especially when the baby is cranky- kicking and thrashing about, and especially when it's three o'clock in the morning and dark and you are just trying to get her buttoned up and back in the crib after you've changed her wet diaper, before she really wakes up.
Half the time I think I am sailing along great- snap snap snap- only to realize I've missed a snap in the beginning somewhere and have to pretty much start all over again. That's when the snaps and holders
fail to match up again as they just had- let's face it, mainly due to operator error. And by the time my motor skills return to somewhat full function, and she's all snapped and ready- she's peed again, and I'm left standing
there pondering just how good a parent am I? Do I just put her back to bed wet? How long til she probably wakes up, and... of course I'm not putting her to bed wet, and the process begins again.
At which point she's wide awake, I'm cranky, and Osama bin Pajama-maker has won. Defeated, I think to myself- there has to be a better way! But seeing as though they've been around for years, and I haven't really seen any other handy options out there- it looks like we're stuck, or, all snapped-in as the case may be. Until a crack-team of scientists unearths a new methodology of baby PJ's, I will just have to continue to pray to the patron saint of digital dexterity and hope for the best.
sometimes all the way up the front. They're great and all- they keep her toasty and she looks cute as a button in them- and it makes it easy to get them off for a quick diaper change, getting them snapped back up and
fastened and situated can prove to be quite challenging. Especially when the baby is cranky- kicking and thrashing about, and especially when it's three o'clock in the morning and dark and you are just trying to get her buttoned up and back in the crib after you've changed her wet diaper, before she really wakes up.
Half the time I think I am sailing along great- snap snap snap- only to realize I've missed a snap in the beginning somewhere and have to pretty much start all over again. That's when the snaps and holders
fail to match up again as they just had- let's face it, mainly due to operator error. And by the time my motor skills return to somewhat full function, and she's all snapped and ready- she's peed again, and I'm left standing
there pondering just how good a parent am I? Do I just put her back to bed wet? How long til she probably wakes up, and... of course I'm not putting her to bed wet, and the process begins again.
At which point she's wide awake, I'm cranky, and Osama bin Pajama-maker has won. Defeated, I think to myself- there has to be a better way! But seeing as though they've been around for years, and I haven't really seen any other handy options out there- it looks like we're stuck, or, all snapped-in as the case may be. Until a crack-team of scientists unearths a new methodology of baby PJ's, I will just have to continue to pray to the patron saint of digital dexterity and hope for the best.
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