The Stank.

Still haven't found what I'm looking for

     We all do stupid things. The trick is in trying not to repeat stupid mistakes. See, the one common denominator between all people is that we all do stupid things. The fine line that separates "normies" from "dummies" is how often stupid things are repeated. The good news, for anyone on the line between dummy and normy, is there can be extenuating circumstances. For instance, I'm use to taking showers in the morning. That's just when showers are taken. Lately, I'm finding a once normal behavior (showering in the morning) to be a stupid behavior. I take a shower in the morning and the next thing I know I've got some combination of spit-up, throw up (yes there is a difference between spit-up and throw up), poop, urine, bag balm, and "other". Why would I shower for that? It's like getting cleaned up to go mud wrestling. Regardless, I continue to shower in the morning, even though I know I'm going to be covered in a thin film of gross baby byproduct within a matter of minutes. On the other hand, if I shower at night, that just means I'm clean the few hours I sleep, then wake up and get dirty again. Maybe I should skip out on showering all together. Nah, that'd be stupid.

     Another stupid thing I do, and I just can't seem to shake, is something I like to call "Hideapoophobia" (pronounced hide-a-poo-fobia). There are times when I'm cleaning up after what can only be described as a poo version of Chernobyl that I get this sinking suspicion there is poo on me somewhere. Usually I have a feeling it's somewhere on my arm, like that spot around your elbow you can't actually see. I try to wipe myself off with one of those baby wipes, just to see if there's something there, but I haven't found anything, not even once. Yet I can't seem to get over my hideapoophobia. This would make me stupid. I guess children really can give you "the brain damage". I'm sure this is just the beginning of what will be a long list of stupid things I'll do as a parent. Just hope they're not too severe.

The Skootface.

IT'S SKOOTFACE!!!!

     I've seen it a hundred times! Little Billy or Suzy is learning to crawl and those giant thighs are much stronger than their underdeveloped T-Rex arms. Frustration ensues. As a parent, we all want to give our children that extra little boost, leg up, or (if you've had a baby T-Rex) arm extensions. I present to you SkootFace. No longer will your child's forehead be red and raw from scooting their heads across the carpet as their arms drift helplessly along the ground. No more will your child's toy continue to be out of reach! Think of never again having to lie to your friends how advanced your child's development is! With the SkootFace your child will be crawling as early as four months old. For only 19.99 you can start your child on an adventure of your house! Think: Miner's helmet with a wheel instead of a light.
     And the best part is, if you don't want them getting around, just take it off! They'll be like fish out of water. If your child is beginning to pick up speed, we have an optional head-bumper for only 5 dollars more! Five Dollars! Think of it! You can protect the Jell-O like consistency of your child's brain for only five dollars, now what parents wouldn't do that for their baby? Admittedly, your child's brain is losing neurons faster than than they can make them because of apoptosis, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't protect the ones that survive! So, go ahead and click on that "Donation" button at the top! I hope you don't expect to get anything, because this doesn't even exist, but still, it'll be fun! And you don't even have to sign up for an account, just give them all your credit card info. It's safer than it sounds... I hope you've been enjoying the blog. But seriously, SkootFace doesn't exist, and if you thought it did and still wanted to buy it for your child, seek help. Keep it funny!

The Cruelty.

Num num num num num....

     Evy is finally getting out of her colic, rolling over, laughing, giggling, all the things a beautiful baby girl should do. It's wonderful. She's happy and agreeable and that makes my job a heck of a lot easier and more fulfilling. The last few weeks have been just like that, and the memory of her colic is being covered up, bit-by-bit, by new memories of enjoyment and smiles. But then the cruelty of life starts to kick in.
     I'm a fan of cruel humor. If you think you're not, you're wrong. Every person I know laughs at the crotch kicks in America's Funniest Home Video's. You do too, don't deny it. It's funny to see someone else get hurt, mainly because it's not us. I think George Gobel said, "it's funny to see a old woman in a wheelchair, rolling down hill, out of control. But it's only funny in America if there's a brick wall at the bottom of the hill." In that same vain of humor, God thought it would just be hilarious if, just a few short weeks after her colic went away, Evy would start teething. Admittedly, she doesn't cry nearly as much, but still, I thought we had done our time in the crying ward. Guess not.
     So, any teething advice? We've tried the frozen things, and they're okay, but they don't stay frozen forever and Evy drools so much they actually thaw out pretty quick. I'm all for the Orajel/Anbesol route, but I'd like to use as few chemicals as possible. I know they make baby versions, but still, I feel weird doing it. Some of my friends have used "homeopathic" teething pills, but I also want something that works. Now, I'm not saying all homeopathic remedies are a crock, but at three o'clock in the morning, I want instant sleep; ergo, I want instant fix. That's probably my problem for being so impatient, but still, is it so wrong to want to sleep? Is it?!?! I don't think so. I'm open to suggestions. What have you tried that worked? What have you tried that failed worse than the Pinto making a comeback?

The Eating.

Before Magneto had a budget...

     Evaline had her first meal today. She hated it. And, I gotta say, she did pretty awful. But it was funny, so that made up for her complete failure as an eater. It's okay though, we still love her. Also, I think I've figured out why her head, like all babies heads, are so big: counterweight. Seriously. She's starting to figure out how to roll over, from stomach to back and the other way! Oh it's true, she's a a full on expert at rolling over. Just as long as she can keep pivoting on that giant head of hers. But she seems to like it, so I'll let it go.
     But back to something that might be remotely useful to the rest of the world. Turns out, it's a good idea to baby-proof your house a little earlier than necessary. Evy succeeded in peeing across her changing table, over to the wall, and right on the electric socket. There's no charred baby, which means it could've gone worse,but still, those little wall socket cover things might not be a bad idea. Catie and I weren't expecting her to do that...she's a girl! Apparently, that doesn't matter and Evy successfully peed straight through the glass ceiling. Well, here's a short video of Evy trying rice cereal. It's supposed to help her sleep longer, but I think there's a prerequisite for it to work: she needs to actually get some of it in her stomach... Oh well, maybe next time.

The Activities.

Ahhh...pink crinkle paper, my favorite. 

     It's kind of difficult to know what to do with a four month old. I mean, I know what to do with her, like feed her, change her, hold her, etc., but right now, her absolute favorite thing in the world is a piece of cloth with cellophane in it. That's right, crinkle paper. It blows her mind. Some of my friends take their six month old to the zoo, the wild animal park, they might even take him to Kidchella at the New Children's Museum. It's pretty cool and all, but my daughter has an attention span of about twenty seconds. After that, all things stimulating just get filed away in the "OH MY GOSH I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE!" category. Evy would probably be as equally interested in my foot as she would be in feeding a giraffe.
     On top of all that, I have a feeling the frustration factor would be pretty high at anyone of these places. I'm kinda (read very) cheap, so when I spend a bunch of money on something, the we're-gonna-have-a-good-time-or-else expectation goes up in proportion to how much money has been spent. But Evy's a baby. She doesn't care or even know about my expectations. She's probably gonna miss a nap, which will make her fussy, which would normally be fine with me, but now it's "costing" me money because we paid for fun but not getting any. We'll be the family walking by and some wiseacre will throw out that "ooo, there goes a happy camper!" comment, I'll get in a fight, and then we'll be kicked out of the park/movie theater/zoo/church. Which is no good, because (with the exception of the church) we paid good money to spend the most time possible having as much fun as possible. All this to say, when I see an ad about Kidchella, or my friends are taking their kid to the zoo, I think of that crinkle paper, and smile. Evy has no idea what she's missing, but she loves that crinkle paper.

The Attention.

     Things are starting to pile up. I haven't written a post, shopped for food, done dishes, or bathed in several days. Baby girl isn't even here yet. What's going to happen when she does come? I'll be running on less sleep than ever before, with more things to do, and less time to do them in. Right now I'm trying to find a job that will allow me to work from home, but that's not shaping up too nicely. Data entry jobs are few and far between, medical transcription gigs take 6 to 12 months to train for if I go to a reputable place, and by then I probably won't even need to work at home.
     EDIT: I realized I never finished or even published this post. I came across it when I was getting ready to write a new post, and it sparked something in me. I was right. Never before have I wanted so much to not be right. I am still tired, running behind, and completely overwhelmed. If it wasn't for Catie supporting me (monetarily and emotionally, and spiritually for that matter), I'm not sure how I could do this. I have more respect for single parents than ever before. The thing is, this has me thinking about a second child. The dog is already running on about a quarter of attention he usually gets. However, if we had a second kid the dog would just about fall off the radar entirely and attention spent on Evy would necessarily be divided. Regardless, people have done this for thousands and thousands of years. So, why do I feel like I'm the first person in the world to have kids? On the other hand, I am the first person in the world to have this kid.

The Passion.

We're not fighting, we're talking passionately...

     First of all, let me apologize for taking such a huge hiatus. Admittedly, it's only been a little over a month and I'm new to this whole parenting thing, but I use to post every day, so it's my own fault for setting up your expectations. Once again, allow me to apologize to all both of my readers. Second of all, I'm working on a book. Haven't shopped it around at all, but I'm trying to make time for it between school and diapers. I've already got the title: Breast Milk in my Coffee and other stories from a stay at home dad. I'm open to suggestions. Thirdly, Evy has helped create and maintain a new level of passion in Catie and I's relationship. Really, she has. Now, it's not necessarily in the way I thought it would happen and it's certainly not the same type of passion I'm use to, but it's there.
     See, somewhere during our maiden voyage into parenting, "talking" about how we're going to parent Evy stopped being an academic discussion on methods and turned into something else. For example, one day Evy was having another one of her marathon crying spells. When the screaming started Catie and I were just trying to make sure Evy was okay. Is she fed, is she hot, cold, sick, gassy, tired, wet, poop-filled, hurt? What?! What's wrong with her? After we'd checked off everything we could think of, we were left with empty brains and an enigma: What do you want?!?!
     Twenty minutes into the wailing marathon, we had about as many nerves as functioning brain cells. I'm throwing out suggestions, trying to calm down a child and empower my wife, but as near as I can tell she's politely ignoring my ideas and doing whatever she wants. Our "discussion" heats up quickly as the decibels rise in an attempt to make ourselves heard over Evy. At the end of this, Evy eventually fell asleep, but there were two adults, wide awake, very mad. Not at Evy, but at each other. The therapist in me had to figure out what just happened.
     After mulling it over, and a few more fights, I started figuring something out. Catie and I weren't getting passionate (read: fighting) about what to do for Evy, we were trying to establish who the better parent was. Turns out, Catie and I were no longer talking about parenting tactics. It had subtly become about who was the better parent. To not agree with my parenting tactics didn't mean there might be a better or different way of doing things, it meant I was a bad parent. That's not something I can handle very easily. That's already my greatest fear and anything that might confirm that is just too much to handle. So if I suggest sitting her up and burping her, and you lay her down and burp her, it means you're a better parent than me. Well, it doesn't mean that, but that's how I internalized it. Once I figured it out, arguing about parenting could just be arguing about parenting. Nothing more. I'm getting better at it, but it's still frustrating when you've tried everything you can and she's still crying. But that's life, isn't it.
    P.S. Don't call me Mr. Mom. Ever. That's like calling Catie Mrs. Dad because she works. I'm not a substitute mother, I'm a father. I'm not second string, I'm the other parent. We're equal, okay? Glad to get that off my chest...