Almost Crawling!

This morning I witnessed something that I have been warned is coming. As I munched on an unsatisfying breakfast of stale toast slathered in margarine, I watched Lainey scoot right over to the entertainment center in her walker and proceed to knock my video games off the lower shelf, one by one. She swatted wildly at the cases, hoping to get a good grip on just one so that she could cover it in slobber. I immediately started looking around and realized that in a few short months, I was going to have to change quite a few things around the house.

Not too long ago, it was safe to leave Lainey alone for a moment. Now, even though she isn’t quite crawling, she still finds a way to move around. She uses a clever little routine where she thrusts back and forth, pumping her legs like she’s trying to gain momentum, then finally she bursts forward, a few inches at a time. Then she counters that little move with a flop onto her back and another roll over onto her stomach. Each time she moves maybe a foot in whatever direction.

Now that she is somewhat mobile, I have really started to pay attention to all the things I have lying around the house that can kill her. Step ladders, metal decorations on low lying shelves, electrical sockets and chemicals… It’s pretty annoying to think that I have to either find new places for all our stuff or lock it all up one way or the other. It is fun to see her learning new tricks and getting bigger though. Before I know it she’ll be walking and back talking. Good times.

Here’s a nice video of Lainey performing some of those moves I mentioned above:

Sara and I live in a quaint, cozy (a weak euphemism for small and cramped) home. One of our biggest qualms with having a baby was space. We have two bedrooms and I had one set up as a makeshift office before the baby was born. Losing that office was hard, but I made the sacrifice. We converted the second room into a nursery and I moved a large portion of my stuff else where. What did stay was a book shelf and a few of my man toys.

This past Saturday morning, I woke bright and early and headed to school for some graduate studies. Class was long and tedious, but I got through it. I came home with a smile, ready to officially start my weekend only to discover that my sister and mother in law were at the house. In the living room were boxes, ready to be sealed then lugged up the stairs into the attic.

I started looking around to find that almost all my treasured junk was there, my globe, lava lamp, and even my Chipper Jones statue. Sara’s mother and sister had decided to do me the favor of gathering all my tacky collectibles and doing away with them for me. The baby’s room had been totally rearranged and a few other things taken down and added to the collective clutter of my small home.

I asked Sara what was up with this and she replied, “We’re taking it up to the attic.” “I see that, but that’s all my stuff.” I interjected. “Well, we kept out your Mario and Luigi bobble heads.” My sister in law added.

Gee, thanks for the consideration, sis. Then to make matters even more splendid, when Sara went to move my stuff for me, my Chipper Jones statue fell out of the top of the poorly packed box, smashing to the ground, much like the Braves season last year. AWESOME!

With a frown, I lugged all my treasures up the stairs and into the hot, non-insulated space. Most of it will probably melt over the summer. I’ll later go to rediscover all my great toys only to find an indistinguishable blob of plastic, with the faint stamp of made in china still present on the bottom of it. But this is only the cherry on top of the anguish sundae I have been eating lately.

I am slowly watching my house being taken over by baby junk. What I had hoped could be contained to the nursery has expanded quickly to take a part of my bathroom, half the living room and a large corner of the kitchen. Baby junk will soon creep into every crevice of my life.

The inside of my car looks like the Toy’s R Us giraffe took a big steaming dump in my backseat. Toys, blankets, diapers, and a giant car seat deface what was once a holy sanctuary where I would pump heavy metal music and pretend I was the fifth member of Metallica, entertaining thousands of screaming fans everyday on the way to and from work. I fear the next step will be the switch to blasting Jonas Brothers or Hannah Montana CDs, in which case I will secretly grow fond of the music and be forced to drive my car off the side of a cliff.

But all that is beside the point. I ultimately knew this would happen. I am angry because my mother and sister in law found it appropriate to come to my house and rearrange things. Or to be more specific, pack things up and move them to the attic. I would like both of them to consider the idea of me doing so in their houses. That venture would go over as smoothly as a Tsunami.

And the issue does not lie in whether or not they did a good job of rearranging the room. They did a stand up job. It’s the fact that when I came in I got that look. All you guys know that look. That look like I am a jackass for mentioning it. Well, you are both jackasses for coming in here and moving my stuff. My wife will never let me put all that crap back out now.

So much for boundaries and so much for lines in the sand.

It used to be that I could prop Lainey up in the corner of the couch, grab a Wii or Xbox controller and have a good solid hour of nearly uninterrupted relaxation. Me sitting on my end of the couch and her chilling out on hers. I did not have to worry about her toppling or rolling over, becoming bored and squealing for toys or heaven forbid, actually rolling off the couch. Now we have not a moment when we are not afraid that she is going to take a tumble, head first, onto the hard wood floor if she were left unattended on any peace of furniture without straps or rails!

Life has suddenly become a giant kick in the nuts. Mornings are chaos. It is a consistent routine I always manage to miss a beat or two on every day. Evenings are not much better. Between cooking and doing a little housework, maybe hitting the gym, feeding and bathing Lainey then putting her down to bed, it becomes a struggle to get anything outside of those few steps done. Couple all this new found stress at home with work, and I suddenly fear that I will quickly become gray and bald very soon.

About five weeks ago, just around the time when Lainey began her metaphoric transformation from the little worm into something new that squirms and eats more, I was sitting at my desk when one of my co-workers came into my office crying. She had been laid off.

The leadership of the organization had cut dozens of people from the payroll. Some were lousy employees who deserved what they got, some were good, and in the case of my sobbing co-worker, some were great.

It became obvious to most of us who still had our jobs that the leadership in my organization was not simply poor, but pathetic. No audit or research of any kind had been done before these layoffs, nothing. Some departments were forced to part ways with employees who had specific skill sets that no other co-workers possessed leaving those departments virtually non-functional , like an engine without a serpentine belt. And in the case of my department, we were reduced to half a staff.

This has resulted in a poison atmosphere. Bitterness quietly fills the halls. And not only are most of us angry, we are scared. What would happen to my family if I were laid off next? And how can I have faith in an organization that appeared to give so little forethought to their decisions before proceeding?

At that moment, I made the decision to go back to school and peruse a Master’s Degree. My plan is to do everything I can to alleviate the fear of not being able to provide. I see so many people with no education or skills around me struggling. It’s daunting to think of not being able to provide for my family. I never want to be in that position.

This current atmosphere should be a hard life lesson to all of us. It is time to suit up, dig in and get hard core. Learn something new, find new ways to market yourself and simply be golden. I have decided to go hard core on developing myself. I tackle new projects at home, pursue more technical undertakings while on the job and have even volunteered to take on new tasks at my Alma Mater for little (or really no) pay at all.

The day the layoffs happened, the division director (my utmost superior before the president and CEO of the organization) came into our offices to explain what was happening. I could tell he was not believing the propaganda he had been told to spread anymore than we were. Of course, I felt the need to protest and that is when he looked at me and said something that changed my life:

“Well, I wanted to tell them to fire you, but it just didn’t make sense. I had to let her go.”

I could not tell whether he was being sarcastic or  serious, but it was obvious that he could not justify firing me. Aside from my direct supervisor, I am the only person in my organization with my skill set. That idea set the tone for my new outlook on life.

Be indispensable, be irreplaceable and be magnificent at whatever you do.

So Life, get ready to take a few more cheap shots at my balls, cause I am about to make things a lot harder on myself. I may as well be a catching 105 mph fastballs from Randy Johnson in his prime, with no face guard or pads on. I really have no idea how I am going to endure three years of graduate studies and maintain what I am already doing. But I will nonetheless.

And maybe, just maybe, someday I will make enough money to tell Sara to stay home and have tons of babies, cook me dinner every night and iron all my clothes for me. It will be just like Leave it to Beaver! Then later on in life when Lainey is whining about doing her algebra and chemistry homework, I will be able to look at her and say,

“What, you’re whining!? I used to change your diapers while solving calculus problems with nothing but my BRAIN! No pen, no scratch paper and no calculator. Then I’d feed you with one hand and type essays with the other. Do your homework… wuss.”

Check out that monster tongue!

Not too long after Lainey finally discovered how to smile did a slew of other little tricks developed. For the first few months Lainey was very boring, just pooping, peeing, eating and sleeping, but over the last month and a half it’s been a blast watching the baby learn and discovering new things. Each week we’re treated to a new little tidbit that brings even more smiles and giggles (from us, not the baby).

About a month ago, Lainey started trying to suck on her little thumb and fingers, a few weeks after that she started grabbing at her feet, which of course went in the mouth like the thumb and fingers. Next Lainey discovered toys, she even has a favorite little ugly bear that she seems to always grab at over the others, and it always goes in the mouth as well. Then she discovered her voice. Now Lainey literally sits around for hours and babbles. Last week I woke up in the dead of night to her babbling in the other room. It was completely dark in the house, no TV, radio or anything else around to catch her attention, and she was jabbering away.

Now Lainey has discovered her tongue.

Sara and I love smothering the little monster in kisses. It’s hard to not be constantly dolling out the affection when I’m around her. At first she seemed to not pay too much mind too us, but eventually she started turning her head in our direction, like she was looking for a big smooch on the lips. Then soon after that, she started opening and closing her mouth like a goldfish, open and close, open and close, over and over. Then one day, she just started sticking her little tongue out… way out! She almost reminds me of a mini Gene Simmons from KISS.

So for now, Lainey sits around and sticks her tongue in and out, over and over. I am so amazed at it that I catch myself sitting around at times just watching her. I must have wasted a good 45 minutes at one point this past Saturday watching her sticking that tongue out, then back in, then back out and back in.

I am really curious to see what she learns next. But I am actually glad I have a girl and not a boy now. I don’t think I could handle watching my little guy discover his penis. I would be pretty freaked out watching an infant smack their junk around like it was a little Ninja Turtle action figure. If my wiener got smacked the way I’ve seen some little boys attack their own Snausage, I’m sure it would recede in fear, like one of the heads on the Ninja Turtle actions figures I just mentioned.

Friends and family guess that next she will move on to sticking things up her nose and in her ears. I can’t wait for one of those frantic trips to the emergency room, on a mission to suck something very small out of an even smaller hole.

Lainey's First Shower!

Lainey came down with a pretty rotten sinus infection a few weeks ago. It has been a real battle of the boogers around the house. Every time we lay her down, the congestion starts draining into her throat, making her cough and choke. Sara and I tried multiple snot suckers and even infant nasal sprays to lure the nasty goo out, but regardless of our efforts, the problem persisted.

Eventually we made the trip to Baby’s R Us, my least favorite store on the planet, and bought a battery powered snot sucker (an electronic nasal respirator! Oooh! Ah!). The battery powered snot sucker is a wonderful gadget. Load it with a few batteries which are conveniently protected by half a dozen, very small screws, push the big blue button, stick the nozzle in the appropriate hole and off you go. I love sticking that thing up Lainey’s nose (and mine too) just to see what comes out.

Despite the magical powers of the battery powered snot sucker, we eventually had to break down and take Lainey to the doctor. They gave her some antibiotics, which were pink and delicious and the infection started to subside. When I saw that little bottle of pink, liquid medicine I was reminded of my days as a child, drinking spoonfuls of the delicious, sweet medicine. I instantly started to wonder two things. 1. Why does Jell-O not make a children’s amoxicillin flavored pudding and 2. Why did we adults quit taking this stuff? I would never miss a dose of medicine if I considered it a treat. Antibiotic resistance due to people neglecting to take the full regimen of their meds would be nipped in the bud! Anyway… back to the story.

It turns out that antibiotics, or at least these particular antibiotics gave Lainey terrible diarrhea. Couple the meds with all the snot Lainey has been swallowing as of late and we have a recipe for mustard color, Campbell’s soupy consistency dookie squirts!

I had heard tales of these dookie bombs from our baby sitter, a seasoned veteran equipped with the experience and skill to handle these types of situations, and though I sincerely apologized for all the mess she was forced to clean up, I secretly prayed that Lainey had gotten it all out of her system. I was hoping for a dookie dumps free weekend.

It was midday Saturday and Sara had gone to take a shower after a trip to the gym. I fired up some Lifehouse (gay band, I know) and picked up Lainey, ready to start our weekly dance together. We spun around the room, bouncing up and down, smiling at each other when I noticed that the small of Lainey’s back was wet. I turned her around to see it… the mustard colored, Campbell’s soupy diarrhea.

I laid Lainey down in her crib, stripped off her clothes and began wiping. It was so much worse than I could have ever imagined. I stripped away the diaper, exhausted easily a dozen baby wipes and still poop was everywhere. Somehow it had made its way all up her backside, along her belly, up to the naval and down her legs.

Finally, I gave in. I picked her up by her armpits, holding her out in front of me like a little bundle of toxic waste and fled to the shower, praying she did not decide to poop or pee any more along the way.

I rushed into the bathroom, threw open the shower curtain and sat Lainey down into a completely shocked,  Sara’s hands! Sara smiled big and greeted us. Then she realized what was going on. Lainey was completely covered in poo.

So that was Lainey’s first shower. It was a shower of pure necessity. A shower not unlike many I have taken myself, an emergency poo-control shower. And of course, because it involved poop, I snapped a picture.

I am so tired of playing Rocket Ship!

Lainey recently passed the two month milestone of her life and has discovered something that has been a long time coming… her smile.

I have always thought it was a bit sad that babies come out of the womb frowning, but it takes a few months for them to really master that picture perfect smile that every goo goo, gaa gaa crazy adult who tickles a baby’s chin, is looking for. We are born kicking and screaming but it takes a few good months for us to obtain the ability to grin even just a little. Sadly, frowns are natural but smiles are a skill that must be learn.

Now nearly every moment spent with the baby has turned into an insane quest to create more smiles. Sara and I have suddenly began targeting Lainey with the camera, attempting to immortalize every single chuckle, smirk or grin in a photograph, and I swear it seems that every new grin is different than the last!

Sara and I have even created new little games to play with Lainey, all aimed at baiting and hooking a smile or laugh. There’s everything from “Super Baby”, where I fly her around the room on her belly to “Daddy pretends to eat baby’s hands and feet time” to even a little game where I make popping and clicking noises with my mouth, which amazes her to no end. But the most successful game is “Rocket ship!”

Rocket ship is a game where I stand Lainey up in my lap, hands around her waist, and stare her dead in the face. She looks at me, wide eyed and curious, seemingly unaware of what’s coming, then suddenly, “shhhooooooshhhhh!” and up she goes! Lainey comes down nearly every trip, smiling in amazement. Though she does not yet know how to say it, I can practically see her facial expression screaming, “Again! Again!”

I expect the rocket ship ride could run for hours and hours, me lifting her up in the air over and over and lowering her back down countless times, and she would never tire of it. Every single pretend ride to the moon and back is a wonderful adventure to her. Even better than the smiles we receive after the rocket ship rides are her looks of excitement while waiting for her next ride. There in nothing cuter than holding her in place, watching her anticipate that next liftoff, feeling her ever so slightly push off with her little legs that are not even strong enough to scoot her across the floor yet.

Now rides on the rocket ship are demanded regularly. Sometimes Lainey squeals and cries, impatient and restless and the only thing that can turn off those squeals is being stood up, standing alert and ready for launch. Right now it is no big deal; she only weighs in at 12 pounds. But I am sure in a few more months; my arms are going to really start feeling the burn from all those pretend trips to the stratosphere and back!

I predict the next great game I invent to entertain Lainey will involve something mechanical that runs off half a dozen D sized batteries!  No more new games involving actual man power!

Check out some of those new smiles!

No Sleep Daddy!

Dealing with babies is generally bad, but dealing with sick babies is really bad. I love and enjoy my little girl, she’s adorable, cuddly and cute, but dealing with her can be quite the challenge at times. Once they get sick, your job gets at least ten times tougher.

Lainey has been sick for about three days now. Her nose is both drippy and stuffy (oxymoronic?), she’s nearly sleepless and she barely eats. Every time we lay her on her back she starts choking on the runny goo running down her throat. At times she cries for no apparent reason at all, other than the fact that she feels absolutely horrible.

We’ve been dealing with it best we can; I have hooked up a vaporizer, we started attacking those little nostrils with the squeezie, snot sucker thing and I have taken to the superstition that I can literally smother the sickness out of her with continuous doses of little kisses. If only the diagnosis of TLC really worked! All it’s gotten me is my daughters cold.

For the past week we have consistently caught maybe four or five hours a night of shut eye, all broken up into little blocks of 45 minutes here and 45 minutes there. This is truly hell. Last Friday I came home from work excited to have a break from the tough week I had just been through, every fiber of my being was ready and expecting a break, only there was no break… Laney does not take breaks from sleepless nights.

Yesterday I stayed out of work to take her to the doctor, turns out she has a cold and all we can do it wait it out. I am guessing that’s exactly what I have too, the wonderful Rhino Virus. So now it’s simply Lainey (and me) against the common cold, and we are getting our asses kicked.

The sleeplessness started once Sara started back to work a few weeks ago and stopped tending to Lainey all night. To counteract the effects of my overnight duties I started the ritual of injecting coffee directly into my veins each morning. It was the only way I could cope with the sleep deprivation. I have since become a total junkie. Sadly, the coffee at work is abysmal. It’s utter crap, it taste like bitter, used up dish water. I imagine I could soak my dirty underwear in a bowl of cabbage juice, warm the juice up in the microwave, add artificial creamer to it and it would taste better than the coffee at work.

Our office coffee machine is a decade old behemoth that only heats the water about as hot as a bath and instead of percolating or even slow dripping the coffee, it just dumps the water right through the grains, resulting in a bitter, weak, pathetic cup of Joe. It’s a mini waterfall of sorrow.

Still, I consume copious amounts of the dark, lukewarm, bitter liquid. Cup after cup, I drink until I shake and jitter. Then I come home mentally drained and ready to go to sleep, only Lainey says no… no sleep for you Daddy, no sleep for you…

This morning I walked into the office a zombie, feeling as if Satan had appeared as a little demon while I napped the night before and taken a massive dump in my ear. My throat was scratchy, my eyes ached and I so badly needed my coffee fix. I rounded the corner in the office to where the water cooler and coffee machine sat only to discover that the coffee pot was gone.

“Oh God no.” I whimpered. I called to my non-coffee drinking boss and asked flatly, “Where’s the coffee pot, dude?” There was a sternness in my voice, and quiet hint of psychopathy. “I’m not sure where it went, it must have broke.” He said indifferently. “I’m going to Quiktrip.” I replied. Then I turned and walked right out the door.

As I approached the QT, I began to salivate. I needed this cup of coffee more than anything I had ever needed in my life. I pulled into the turning lane, slowed and started my turn when suddenly A BLUE MINI VAN CUT ME OFF!

A blue mini van made it’s way around me, butted in front of me in the turning lane and nearly met in a T-bone with an oncoming truck!

I hit the gas and rode up on her rear. She swooped around and took a parking spot. I turned and looked to her, daggers must been shooting out of my eyes. Then suddenly I uttered, no I screamed the absolute worse word you can call a woman.

“You stupid C-U-#-%!”

Because this is a family site, I won’t actually write the word, but you know the one. She looked at me with fear in her eyes, closed the door, got back in the car and drove away.

I went in QT, grabbed the biggest cup of coffee they had and sipped it. It was piping hot and nurchuring. Suddenly I was relaxed and the world seemed like such a better place.

Now it is the evening, I am home, Lainey is still sick and I dread the evening ahead. Another sleepless night, but tomorrow I will come to work prepared with a giant cup of coffee in hand.

It’s the best thing in the world when Lainey smiles at me, but babies (especially sick) just plain old suck.

Lainey is happy after her poop!

To date, my child has soiled over 550 diapers in her seven short weeks of existence! I had always heard complaints about babies using quite a few diapers, but I never quite realized just how rabid that consumption actually was until now.

The market for diapers is so lucrative that retail outlets across America designate entire aisles to them, countless dollars are spent on ad campaigns and the most prestigious brands feature little prints of our favorite children’s cartoon characters.  My baby barely knows who I am, much less Whinny the Poo, Oscar the Grouch or Elmo, but that does not mean we can’t put the cute characters on the diapers in hopes of winning over a few more parent’s dollars!

On past visits to the local Costco, I used to laugh at moms and dads forking over their hard earned cash and leaving with giant boxes of Pampers and Huggies under their arms. I used to think the idea of buying a block of 200 of the undergarments at once was ridiculous. Now I buy the giant blocks as well, the larger the box the better.

Day after day, I am nothing short of amazed at Lainey’s propensity to produce poop. She is nothing short of amazing, a true phenom, a real sight! She is… The Prodigy Pooper. Lainey can lay a fresh poo-pattie in her little stool sack easily once a hour, and naturally the child lacks any sense of shame.  Lainey poops all the time, any time.  Day or night, rain or shine, asleep or awake, this kid is laying a turd.  It is not unusual to be snuggling her, her eyes just slightly cracked open as she feeds, then witness her just ever so nonchalantly stop feeding, back off the bottle for a brief moment and grunt.  Suddenly you feel it, that warmth in the pit of your hand you’re using to support her bottom.  You instantly become aware that there is only a thin layer of diaper between you and the sludgy sewage that your precious little girl just produced.

A short while back I was watching Lainey by myself. She had just finished sucking down a bottle and the aromatic evidence of her readiness to be changed filled my nostrils.  I picked her up, took her to the crib to be changed and pulled off the dirty diaper.  While in the process of scrubbing the little monster down, I turned to sneeze.  As I turned I went to fetch a Kleenex from the restroom… then it happened.  I had broken a cardinal rule of diaper changing: DON’T LEAVE THE POO HOLE EXPOSED!

Suddenly I heard it, “Uhg!” then SQUIRT!

Lainey grunted and out came a stream of the mustard squirts!  The watery stool shot across the room just missing the back of my leg by inches.  I was amazed.  I ran to gather the tape measure and my digital camera.  I was in pure disarray.

Lainey’s poop cleared the side of the crib and made it roughly four and a half feet across the room. It took half a bottle of carpet cleaner to scrub it out.  What an amazing feat for such a little girl.  I see bright things in her future.  I have never been more proud as a father and I now proudly flaunt the fact that my baby can squirt poop farther than yours!

Needless to say, next time I have to sneeze while changing her, she’s getting a face full of snot. Better her than me.

Check out the photos for yourself! Click to bring up the lightbox:

Sara and Lainey- Christmas 2008

From time to time my boss, Michael will talk about his two youngsters growing up too fast. I still remember when the older of the two little ones started kindergarten. He genuinely seemed sad that she would no longer get to stay at home with her mom day after day and play games, bake cookies and take trips to the grocery store with her.

I laughed at him then but now I almost understand where he’s coming from. Like me, Michael is a big kid at heart. In fact, our office antics are legendary. Every day we’re playing a different joke on one another, telling a different funny story even secretly planning a prank to top the other’s last.

Michael instills this childlike spirit in his children. Evidence of it is littered in his stories and I see it in his little boy every time he comes to visit in the office. The first thing his son, David always wants to do is wrestle, fart on me or play with something fragile off my desk. He’s simply a perfect little, carefree version of his dad.

I was looking down at Lainey this morning, lying in bed beside me while her mother took a shower, and I felt a little bit of Michael’s sadness. It wasn’t that I was sad she was already a month old in the blink of an eye (actually, I can’t wait for her to get a little older), it was that I only had a few short years until she would be off to school too, taking on responsibilities of her own. No more endless play time or carefree afternoon naps.

It’s hard to watch children gradually lose that innocence they have almost naturally. It’s just plain fun to see kids who are so energetic, playful and in love with life like Michael’s kids are. Every decent person wants that for their child and I want that for my child too. In Michael’s children, the spirit almost seems amplified. It is almost as if they know no other emotions either than love and happiness. I genuinely think it is a direct result of his joyous spirit and attitude. In fact, the man can be so joyous that I think he secretly wishes he could go back to believing in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny too.

Honestly, sometimes I wish I could believe again too…

So tonight, I’ll start a new tradition with Lainey and Sara. It’s been a rough holiday thus far, but things are going to get better. Tonight, I plan to crawl up in the attic and do something I haven’t done over the past few years. I’m going to pull down our stiff, acrylic Christmas tree, the tangled lights and dusty ornaments and the three of us are going to decorate that meager artificial pine tree to the best of our ability.

I know Lainey is too young to know what is going on, but Sara and I will get to have our fun. And hopefully it will be the start of our lifelong tradition of passing on as much laughter, happiness and a pure passion for simply being alive that we can.

I do not want her to simply live life, I want her to eat, drink and breathe it. I want her to be enveloped in it and I hope that she loves and enjoys it as much as I love and enjoy her. Then hopefully she will grow up to be a better person than I or her mother ever dreamed of being… and maybe cure cancer or do something else awesome like that.

So cheers to happiness, health, cheesy decorations and maybe a little fruit cake.

Merry Christmas.

My fuzzy face makes her cry.

This morning was as typical as any other. I woke up from my warm bed at 6:25 sharp, jumped in the shower, washed my underarms and bottom, de-funkified myself then threw on my clothes. I squirted the usual dime sized portion of hair gel in my palm and ran it through my messy hair, gave myself a quick look over and was ready to tackle the day.

For the past few days, every time I smother Lainey in kisses, she erupts in a fury of screams and cries. My aunt told me yesterday that it was probably because of my lumber jack beard I’ve grown out of laziness over the past few weeks. I always entertained the idea that my beard is silky smooth; I condition it daily and secretly apply some of my wife’s feminine moisturizers to it most mornings. Well, today it was time for it to go and later I hoped to pass the kissably smooth test before I left for work.

I plopped down in front of the computer with a big bowl of Frosted Mini Wheat; there was a little Guitar Hero prize inside the box! I tossed it in my backpack so I could play with it at work. I surfed around the net a moment, finished my high fiber, stool softening bowl of cereal and put on my shoes. It was almost time to head out.

Sara lay half awake on the couch with Lainey pressed up against her breast. They looked so warm, comfortable and adorable. Part of me wished I could snuggle up next to them and spend the day right there. I started getting a little sappy feeling in the pit of my stomach and immediately seized the manly instinct to fight it off. It is a simple fact in life that men do not enjoy being sappy inside. It makes us feel puny.

As I was suppressing my weak, estrogen laden feelings deep into the pit of my stomach, I looked over at the TV to see a story Good Morning America was doing about a little girl who had went to visit Santa. The report featured an adorable, blonde headed, cute as could be little girl probably not more than 4 years old sitting on Santa’s lap. The reporter commented, “Kensley Penny told Santa all she wanted for Christmas was her daddy, who left for Afghanistan last spring.”

Then suddenly her father appeared, as if it were a scene scripted for a film. The little girl turned to him in disbelief. “Hey daddy? HEY DADDY!” she exclaimed. The pitch in her tiny voice ran from an instant of shock immediately to heightened excitement. He picked her up, smothering her in a tight hug. “Hey daddy, I missed you daddy!” She said over and over.

It was obvious that the soldier was fighting tears; he buried his face into the little girl’s tiny body. The instinct to not cry in front of others runs deep in a man, especially a certified bad ass like this guy undoubtedly is. This is a man who slays terrorists in foreign lands, and today he’s caught in front of the nation, crying over the love of a small child.

Immediately tears welled up in my eyes. I turned to Sara in grief, “Oh that’s horrible! Holy crap that’s horrible. Why do they put this stuff on TV?” She started laughing at me. “God, I can’t stop crying, this sucks. God this sucks!” A month ago, I’d have watched this news cast and been moved, but certainly not brought to tears. Today I was reduced to a puddle of slime, simply because I now could relate to what he must have been feeling.

I lay down next to Sara and Lainey and hugged them, so proud that they were mine and I was theirs. I kissed Lainey a few times on the cheek and guess what, no cries! Guess that lumberjack beard was to blame all along.

I headed off to work after that and blasted The Adam Carolla Show on the way there. He was ranting about a bad trip to the movie theater amongst other things. Through his awesomeness I gained a little bit of my dignity back and successfully suppressed those sappy feelings. Thanks Adam.

Over the past month I’ve learned that it is not easy being a tough guy when you have a little baby, especially a little girl. But with some hard work and a little luck, I’ll be back to my stone cold, awesome self soon enough.

If you feel like being brought to tears, check out the news cast that inspired this story.