Raising Daddy

• 21Apr

  So Much for Lines in the Sand

  The First Six Months No Comments

  It is a sad, sad day when a man comes home to find that his wife is trucking his prized man toys up into the attic. Last Saturday was that day for me.

  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.

• 12Apr

  Life is kicking me in the balls

  The First Six Months No Comments

  Lainey has exploded into a monster child. Within three weeks time we have literally seen the little goblin go from 0 to 60 in mere seconds. What was a squirming, cooing and immobile worm last month is now a mush eating, slobbering, teething, and babbling little caterpillar about to sprout wings and fly (or rather crawl) anyway.

  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.”

• 24Feb

  Look at me, I have a tongue!

  4th Month (3 Months Old), The First Six Months No Comments
  

  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.

• 10Feb

  Lainey’s First Shower!

  3rd Month (2 Months Old), The First Six Months 1 Comment
  

  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.

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