Confessions of a new dad, vol. 29: The schedule

Trying to get your baby on a schedule, is a challenge that most parents struggle with. What time they eat. What time they nap. What time they go to sleep. It really is a struggle, because of all the internal/external variables that affect your day and theirs. Took longer at the store than anticipated? That's going to cut into nap time, if it happens now at all. More likely she'll pass out in the car for a few minutes and then be wide awake at home and demanding your attention when it's time to put the groceries away. Did her morning nap run longer than usual? Now lunchtime is a little late, and you can almost forget the afternoon nap.Or if she still happens to go down for the afternoon nap- now you can pretty much count on the fact she'll still be awake at least an hour past her usual bed time.

Put hands to head and pull hair. (Screaming: "Heeeeelp!" to the heavens optional)

Some parents (super-parents!) try to squash the variables, by rigidly sticking to the schedule come hell or high water. Maybe they won't go to the store if it means there's a chance it could run long. Or they'll wake their child up at an appointed time when the planned nap is over. There's a lot to be said for that kind of diligence. But most of the time we're so thrilled when K goes down mid-morning or day, that we feel she'll wake when her body tells her it's time to wake up. And, she's got to eat- so we have to go to the store. Schedule be damned! And let's face it, she probably has something to do with us getting out the door late. That's right, blame the baby.

All that said, we do have our little one on a decent (if not written in very light pencil) schedule. But since we aren't the super-parents mentioned above, she gets off schedule a little here and there. With minor tweaks every now and then, she's pretty good and keeping to it. So much of the talk surrounding the "schedule" is that they baby gets fussy when the schedule is deviated from. But what I've come realize is that although sure she gets a little cranky when her schedule gets screwed up, it's her parents that really get cranky. That nap time is our time to nap too- or at least get stuff done around the house that is next to impossible to do while she's up. So when the day doesn't go as planned we're the ones that get grumpy.

I can't imagine, though, that the super-parents are any less cranky at constantly having to re-arrange and reschedule their days so as not to disturb the almighty schedule! I mean yes, you have to make a lot of concessions in your life when a baby arrives- but you can't let them take completely take charge. As with a lot of things in parenting, compromise is the name of the game. Nobody likes a fussy grown-up, after all.

Reverence for the garage (An OJAAT Haiku)

A surprise snow fall.
Parked on the street last night for
Convenience, ha! Crap.

Blogger's note: A tip of the hat to an old classmate, Julienne, whose blog I Love Bus Haiku gave me the inspiration for this post. Give it a read, very good stuff!

Confessions of a new dad, vol. 28: Behind the plastic

My first winter in New York, I noticed something that seemed alarming. Babies being pushed around in strollers shrouded in plastic sheets. How awful, I thought, those poor kids- can they breathe in there??!! Then I came to realize very quickly that not only are the stroller covers quite safe, but they are also almost a necessity for city living. When you have to walk from point A to B rather than just hopping in a car, and you live in a place subject to weather, keeping your baby safe from the elements- be it rain, snow, or biting wind- is difficult to do with out one of these devices.

So when our little one came along, we of course purchased the plastic cover for her chariot. And while it's been a godsend on cold, wet winter days, some of those initial fears of mine about these things come creeping back every time a I put it on. After all, while it began to make sense to me that these a perfectly safe for other children, this is now my little girl we're talking about. So of course I'm afraid she'll suffocate in there-- to say nothing of the twelve layers of clothing she has on. If we have a walk of any sustained length or time, I find myself constantly checking to see if she's still breathing. Sometimes it steams up which may make it hard to see her clearly, but at least that's a tell-tale sign there is breathing happening. Then when there's no steam, I have to bat at the plastic to defect the glare so I can see inside that she's all good under the hood. Her making noise while under the sheet help calm the nerves a little, until the point I start thinking- Is she making noise because she's getting carbon dioxide poisoning? Sigh.

If these plastic stroller covers weren't safe, they probably wouldn't be so prevalent- right? There's no need to worry. There's ventilation... she's fine in there... and she'd be cold and wet otherwise. And it's just another reason to pray for warmer weather.

Confessions of a new dad, vol. 27: Accentuating the Positive

Babies have got it good. 

I'm not just talking about being pushed around in a stroller, or being changed when they've messed themselves. I'm not just talking about being fed whenever they want to, or held and coddled when they get upset. Those things are nice. But in addition to that- every little thing they do gets celebrated. Nobody smiles and pats me on the back when I finish all my food. And I can clap too, you know- been clapping for a long time- and yet when I do it goes almost completely unnoticed. Not "Yaaaay," followed by clapping along with me in celebration. It's got me feeling like Fredo from the The Godfather 2: "I can handle things! I'm smart!" No- I don't ever voice this state of mind... I'm an adult. Plus, we all know what happened to Fredo.

Which got me to thinking: Can you imagine how productive we all might be if we all received the the kind of positive affirmation afforded to babies? I'm sure it would get a little annoying after a while, but man it would feel good to be showered with compliments on the way I walked to the printer from my desk... and back!! What a big boy!! And what satisfaction: Going to the bathroom... in the potty? All by myself?? Yaaaay! Just think of Barak Obama signing a bill into law, and being hoisted up on John Boehner's shoulders for being the bestest President ever!! And the cutest!! What a proud papa he'd be!

But sadly, the hyper-positive reinforcement ends as soon as you're old enough to appreciate it. So live it up while you still get it, babies- because it's much less of big deal when you make poopies in your pants at age 34. Well, it's still a big deal- but not in the good sort of way. And the rest of you, hold your applause, please.

Confessions of a new dad, vol. 26: Must NOT-See TV

I've never been a big fan of TV news pieces or articles that deal with misfortune involving children. Kidnapping, child abuse, inspirational yet depressing stories of children dealing with terminal illness- not my cup of tea. If I happened to be watching a program and one came on, I might watch some of it- but I would never go out of my to watch or read these stories or seek them out in any way. (I know you are are thinking, Who does? Plenty of people, although they may not admit it, love watching that heart-wrenching real life drama stuff. Maybe they like a good cry, maybe they watch to make themselves feel better about where they're at- but they are out there. I know this, because that's why you see stories like this abound- TV producers and/or news editors know their audiences.)

Now that I have a little girl- who has, like all children do I suppose, become the center of my universe- I can't even bear to peek at this stuff. The second something like this comes on the screen I will change the channel- can't do it. My neuroses about the health and well-being of my child don't need any help going to dark places, thank you very much. Having been in the hospital with my little girl for a non-life threatening situation was difficult enough, let alone imagining the struggle that the parents and children involved in these tragedies must go through. I don't want to think about it!

I know sticking my head in the sand doesn't make the ills of the world disappear as it concerns my daughter. But it's not so much putting on rose-colored glasses as it is not inviting any more stress and worry than is already there to begin with. More like sweeping it under the carpet. I know it's there, but I don't have think about it, or deal with it. Out of sight, out of... well, never completely out of mind- but maybe it gives me a fighting chance to keep it in the way back of my mind.

Confessions of a new dad, vol. 25: Temporary Backseat

We've been very lucky in that our little girl has a very easy going personality. We can take her places where there's a lot of different people, and she's fine with being passed around. But around the house lately, it's become Mommy-time!

When Mommy leaves the room it's accompanied with a yelp from K., or sometimes even a full fledged cry. Sometimes Mommy can sneak out without her absence being detected, but not usually. So left in the room is me and a crying baby. "What's wrong with Daddy?" I'll ask her. "Remember me? Daddy?"  At which point she'll look up at me with that break-your-heart pout, and realize #2 will have do- but not without another whip around of the head to make sure Mommy's not coming back. When Mommy hands her off to me, it's met with the same kind of reaction, much like I am aflame or something.

It's hard not to take it personally. The little bundle for whom you expend so much energy, and love so much it aches doesn't seem to like you!! Daggers!! Okay, yeah this is an over-exaggeration. Because it's not all the time- it's not even a majority of the time. But it's amazing to me how easily this tiny human can sway my emotions. It's the outward display of displeasure to be left with Daddy- even if it's momentary- that stings, only to be erased mere seconds later by her toothless grin. And the other thing is, it's never a feeling of  jealousy towards my wife, at all. I absolutely love the way K. looks at her mom. It's more precious to me than even when she looks at me- and that doesn't bother me. Watching the two of them together gives me an indescribable joy, and I'd never want that to go away or nor would I change it for anything.

I also know that someday, this is all bound to change. That there will be a Daddy's-little-girl phase, where I'll reap the benefits of unbridled and uninterrupted affection from the little miss. Until then I'll put up my parental suit of armor so as not to suffer the daily slings and arrows of tiny mood-swings.

Goundhog Day Revolution

A year ago on this day, on this blog, I questioned the validity and the very tradition of Groundhog Day. After re-posting today (on a popular social-networking site which is the subject of an Oscar-nominated movie which will remain nameless), my friend Kerry commented, asking a very pertinent and though-provoking question: Why not entrust another animal to foretell the weather? Her answer to her own question was perhaps a cat- pointing to their intuition. Valid point. It got me thinking, what other animals could apply- and how would their version of February 2nd play out? And, what to do with the groundhog now that he's got more free time?

CATS: It might go something like this. As Kerry noted, cats do have a very intuitive quality to them. In which case, I say the cat makes every attempt not to let anybody pull them from the carrier (assuming they allowed themselves to be put in the carrier to begin with), knowing full-well the madness that awaits. Arms bloodied, and nerves rattled, the handlers tell the awaiting crowd they're not really sure about the weather, but they look to have 6 weeks of recovery ahead from their injuries.

DOGS: Dogs are too smart for this. Plus, if they're outside all they are going to want to do is play or go to the bathroom. So the dog gets excited- runs around in a wide circle a few times to burn off some of that pent up energy from being cooped up, tuckers out and takes a very long-awaited pee. Again, the dog runs off, in hot pursuit of his shadow. At which point everyone forgets why they've come- but walk away with the valuable lesson re-learned to not eat the yellow snow.

PARROT: After emerging from its cage, the handlers may say something like, "Tell us what the season brings..." To which the parrot will respond: "Tell us what the season brings...bwaaaah!" "Six weeks more winter?" "Six weeks more winter?....bwaaah!" "Or will spring come early?" "Or will spring come early?..bwaaah!" I think you get the point.

GOLDFISH: Dreadfully, someone has left the goldfish bowl out for too long out in the elements and it has frozen solid. It is announced that six more weeks of winter will be observed in remembrance of our frozen-gilled friend. Also- special on goldfish at the fish market!!

BURMESE PYTHON: I guess we'll have to go with him today, because we can't find the groundhog, or the cat, dog, parrot, or goldfish. Seriously- where the hell are they?  

We could go on all day, feel free to add your own.

So, what to do with the groundhog? All this history of predicting on his resume, where does he go? Perhaps he could go to Vegas and set odds for sporting events. Or how about Wall Street? It would be nice to know which way the stock market's gonna go- in six week increments of course. Or if that fails he could be the crazy groundhog who can guess your weight at the carnival. Maybe he retires somewhere without seasons, and forgets it all. Don't ask him if he saw the weather report- he's sensitive.

It's a lot of pressure to put on a groundhog, to have him make a meaningless prediction like this every year. But until the revolution, it looks as though the groundhogs will continue to hold the monopoly on this one. And to Punxutawney Phil, who today told us spring would be coming early, I say "What Phil?? I couldn't hear you with the sound of all the ice crushing under my feet!!"