Posts tagged motherhood

Dylan is pretty quick on the uptake, you can’t get anything by him. But recently I’ve been challenging myself to be extra quiet when he playing with his toys so he forgets I’m in the room. It’s only then I can watch him “be himself” and play, explore, and discover what’s in front of him.

My new favorite few minutes of the day.

I’ve often written about how being a Stay At Home Dad is hard, in part because the days of the week have no feeling. There’s no Friday “feeling”, there’s no Monday “feeling”. Well, that changed a bit yesterday.

After the boy was all aces during Easter at my Grandmother’s, when we got home and after a few hours of sleep, he turned into some whiny little monster sent to the this planet to break me down and systemically destroy my patience. 

In the wee hours of Monday morning Dylan getting up no less than 4 times, seemingly for no other reason then to make sure we weren’t getting too comfortable, you know, in bed… sleeping. When he woke up, and Christina left for work, he began his assault on my sense. Non-stop whiny that started at 9 am, with no end in sight. I tried EVERYTHING, and nothing worked. Everything seemed to just piss him off even more. Even my clownish antics, that can usually get a smile when he’s crying, solicited an even louder and more annoyed whine. He wasn’t happy, and wanted me to know.

When Christina got home, the whining continued until a little nursing put him to sleep…about an hour too soon. Without a bath. Without pajamas on. Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem, but the Little Dude is a little creature of habit, something out of the ordinary, throws him waaaaay off.

Well, he woke up shortly after, and continued his crank ass ways. At about 9:30 I took him in his room, closed the door, shut the light, sat with him on the glider and proceeded to have a heart to heart with him. 20 minutes later, mid heart, he fell asleep.

Great, all my tricks to make him happy or sleep don’t work. But my outpouring of Fatherly emotion and advice, knocks him out cold.

I’m not a very social creature. I can count the number of contacts on my phone with my fingers and toes. My Facebook friends are in the double digits, and the ones I talk to are in the single digits. I’m not a people person, in fact I find people repugnant and unappealing, for the most part. I keep to myself and really could go the rest of life without going to a party and be happy as a pig in shit. The long and short of it…I’m socially bankrupt, and I’m more than ok with that. Oddly enough, I enjoy online interactions, such as Tumblr, and one of my favorite pastimes is people watching.

With that said, the very fact that I found a woman who is so understanding of my miserable social disposition and who is not only willing to be in my company for more than 5 consecutive minutes, but married me and bore us an awesome son is nothing short of miraculous.

Being a Stay At Home Dad with little to no adult interaction for 10 hours of the day, and very little outside social interests, takes a mental toll. When you work outside the home, the first thing that gets you going on Monday morning this that there is a Friday afternoon just around the corner. Friday afternoon means here comes the weekend, goodbye crap ass job. Being a SAHD means there’s no more Friday afternoon’s, in the traditional sense. There’s no goodbye to your “job” for the weekend. It’s hard to not have that little something to nudge you during the week.

Since I’ve been home with Dylan, I learned that I’m a “destination” person, not a “journey” person. Some people go through their day, or life, enjoying the journey for what it is and using that energy to feed off. I used think I was that way. But now I see things a little different. I enjoy the journey but I need to have a destination in mind. Whether it’s a goal, or just a Friday afternoon, I need a short term…something, to get me through the week. I haven’t had something like that in months and it’s taking a toll.

Christina suggested I pick up a new hobby or maybe call my best friend for an outing. She’s 100% right in that I need a new hobby and it would be great to get out and hang out with my old partner in crime. She’s more that happy to take the baby for the day and let me do something out of the house, but the question remains, what to do. A new hobby will takes some time to figure out, my old hobbies all consist of collecting things. And hanging out is not possible this weekend so I designed my first Daddy Day Out for this Saturday.

I’m going to geek out and do my own little personal walking tour of 6 different comic book stores around Manhattan, getting lost in my iPod for the day. This may sound boring and geeky, but dammit I’m stoked. I love my family to death but I need some time to myself every week, for everyone’s sanity I think. I need a day to not think about naptimes, dirty diapers, and dishes. 

Speaking of which, I know a little baby on my lap right now that needs a nap and maybe a diaper change. And those dishes 25 feet behind me aren’t going to do themselves.

Back to work.

Seven months in and I still can’t bring myself to get dressed before noon most days, so obviously, I’m doing something right. With that said, I’m writing this post in an old pair of shorts, a tee shirt, and Dylan on my knee pulling my leg hair. Who’s got a hang of this Dad thing? This guy!

• Dylan loves a tired Daddy - That’s the only explanation based on his behavior. It doesn’t matter if we go to bed at 9:00 or at 12:00, the second my head hits the pillow at night, Dylan will wake up. If I try to steal a few minutes of sleep when he naps, the moment I I let out the that sigh of relief when I lay down, he wakes up. It doesn’t matter what time he goes to bed, whether he sleeps through the night or is up every hour, he will get up and 6 am ready to rock and roll. My theory? He like the grey hairs that are showing up and the dark circles that aren’t leaving.
• It really isn’t getting easier - I figured the longer we did this parenting thing and the older he got, the easier it would get. Wrong. The days of easy feedings where he just lay still are gone. The feedings these days are met with tiny hands that wander around around your face like Stevie Wonder on a blind date (HA! See the what I did there?!) Fingers that find themselves in your nose only to quickly move into your mouth. His king fu grip on my beard is only slightly less painful then when he’s trying grab my eyeball out of the socket. 
• The importance of routine - This might be the biggest and best lesson I’ve learned about being a SAHD. Without routine, nothing can get done and Dylan gets pissed.
• Making baby food is awesome - Seriously, I love it.
• It’s just flying by - Time moving way too fast. He’s growing out of clothes, getting too big for swings, eating baby food, it’s just too much too soon. Next month I plan on finding Dylan’s slow-mo button so we can enjoy these times just a little longer. 

When I was a part of the paid workforce, no one ever asked me, “What’s it like working in Facilities Management?” or “Do you like it?” No one asked, no one cared. Granted, no one cared with good reason. I was just another asshole with another dumb job only assholes work in. Now that I went from negotiating deals with vendors to making baby food, people ask, “What’s it like being a Stay At Home Dad?”. Instead of fixing and rebuilding office equipment five days a week, I try to make my son laugh as much as possible for 10 hours a day, five days a week, people ask, “Do you like it?”

I never really know how to answer the “What’s it like?” question. I mean, I’m sure it’s just like a Stay At Home Mom, only with Dad. It’s hard. It’s stressful. It takes a mountain of patience, a bottomless well of energy, the ability to multitask (a lot of the time one handed) like boss, and remember to smile through it all. And even with those tools, there’s no guarantee of getting through the day unscathed…you or or your child.

The question of “Do you like it?” is much easier to answer. Of course, I love it. For the first time in my life, I feel as if what I do all day matters. For the first time since I started working, I love what I do. Yes, it’s tough. Yes, it’s a role that was/is traditionally held by women but being a man taking care of of his son is the most manly thing you can do.

I can’t say it’s the hardest job in the world but I can say it’s one of the most important jobs you can ever hope to have. Most women find it endearing, most men find it strange, but I find it to be the most rewarding thing I could ever hope to do.

And I can do it all in my pajamas.

I was pumped the whole week. Saturday was supposed to be awesome! I was showered, shaved, and dressed to eat my weight in Mexican food. My Mother-In-Law was here, ready to babysit the hell out of Dylan. It was Saturday night and these two tired haggard parents were going out! 

We made our way downstairs to the door when we heard the bloodcurdling screams of a baby in pain. We looked at each other and headed back upstairs to find our Little Dude wasn’t over his tummy troubles like we thought. His inconsolable cries were enough for us take off our jackets and put the keys down and resign ourselves to the fact that tonight was going to be a night at home. Again.

We ordered some Colombian take out from the local place, which would have been fine because they’re usually pretty good. When I got my food, it was burned, dry and just pretty awful all around. 

The rest of the night was a blur of baby holding, soothing, and tiny increments of sleep scattered throughout. A far cry from my planned Saturday night.

“Oh, you thought you could have a night out without me? SUCKAS!”

Dylan is six months old and in the throws of solid food. Well, semi-solid. The mushy fruits and veggies hardy constitutes a solid in my opinion. While we looking forward to the day when the Little Dude could start eating something other then a boob or a silicon nipple, now that it’s here, it seems too soon. He’s growing up a little too fast for my liking. In any event, Christina and I going with a “No jarred baby food” rule, so it’s up to us to do the mushing.

He’s been rocking the baby oatmeal and mushy bananas like a champ for a few days, with actual bounces in his high chair when eating the bananas.We added sweet potatoes to the menu yesterday and while it didn’t illicit the same bouncy reaction the bananas got, he seemed to like them. 

With the Doc’s recommendation of three meals of solids a day, on top of his breast milk, we’re looking at a whole new feeding schedule to work out. Just when things we going swimingly.

In any event, the new good eats means a little more work on our part in terms of food prep and feeding time…and more bibs and cloths in the laundry.

The discoloration of his high chair starts now.

Life without children can be annoying enough, the little things the universe throws at you just to watch you squirm are sometimes enough to make you want to punch a box full of kittens. Well…maybe that’s taking it a bit far but I think I made my point. (And no, the point isn’t mild annoyances drive me to violent acts on cute animals). When you have children it opens up a whole new world of love, joy, worry, and excitement…and that world has its own set of pitfalls, booby traps and obstacles to overcome. Here’s a few that I find particularly distressing:

• Automatic shutoff: The Little Dude has a swing, a mobile, toys, and a nightlight that contain an automatic shutoff function. I appreciate the manufacturer’s desire to save me energy and costly batteries, but I’ll decide when I want things off thankyouverymuch. If the boy is sleeping to the sweet hum of the mobile and the Bach music it plays and then it turns off 20 minutes later, that change can and has woken him up from a few naps. Also, a nightlight with an auto shut off? Your kidding right? 
• Strangers commenting on my parenting: What parent doesn’t want to punch these people in the neck?
• Babies R Us coupons that are only valid for things you don’t want: When we started buying all our baby things, we signed up for the Babies R Us membership club thing. So every month we get a handful of coupons for 20% off, or what have you, with a list of caveats as long as my arm. Of course, these restrictions are placed on everything you actually want to buy. 
• Bottle Warmers are bullshit: In the early days of our parental ignorance, we thought a bottle warmer was one of those things that the older parenting generation scoffs at, but would actually be useful. Wrong. We tried it a few weeks after we brought home the baby. It either made the bottle scalding lava hot, or colder then when we put it in there. Every time. 
• I have children’s songs and melodies stuck in my head on a constant loop from all the damn toys that play music: Everything plays a song. Everything. So I walk around the house day and night humming or singing these little ditties. That would be ok, sort of, but when I leave the house, I’m doing the same. I miss the days when I complained about the age appropriate songs stuck in my head.

He sits up by himself, eating some solids, getting two teeth, rolling over and a slew of other things (none of which include growing hair, he’s still a little cue ball) I thought would take forever to happen. Apparently, forever is only six months in my little world.

• I learned the importance of routine: At bedtime we have the Three “B“‘s routine, Bottle, Bath, Bed. Any deviation from that results in some catastrophic night time events. My wife and I were/are not routine people but apparently my son is…so we have to be. 
• I learned teeth are a suitable substitute for hands: Have a bottle in one hand, baby in the other and need to get his bib off? Take it off with my teeth. Hands are full of baby and baby related things, my teeth are ready and willing to shoulder some that burden.Thanks fellas!
• I learned “Let’s try and rip the glasses off Daddy’s face when he’s not paying attention” is his favorite game: Of course he always throws his meaty paws at the hinge, getting his drooly fingers on the lens and squeezing his other fingers on the “arm”. I think he wants to blind me in order to get to the liquor cabinet without me noticing.
• I learned his laugh STILL makes me laugh: It’s infectious.
• I learned this may happen every time I leave the house: Putting people in their place is kind of a hobby for me. Bring it Old Folks!
• I learned I’m getting better at this Stay at Home Dad thing: I know I’ll never perfect it or even have firm grasp on it completely but I know things are much smoother now and more is getting done. The more I think about it, the credit should go to Dylan…he’s growing up.  

So today is Valentine’s Day…or as we call it around here, Tuesday.

My wife and I do not celebrate this particular day of Love, clearly making me the envy of my friends. In our 11 years together, I think we might have acknowledged the holiday once, maybe. Our reasons for not celebrating are…well I really don’t think anyone cares actually.

A few days ago my wife mentioned that in a few years we may have to start doing a little celebrating on February 14th. When I asked why, she replied with something to the effect of not having our son grow up with such blatant anti-commercial jerky parents and not being able to enjoy the day the way kids do. There’s some merit to that. I mean, come on, what little kid doesn’t like getting those little Valentine’s?

Luckily we have few years to figure it out.

EDIT: I’m not expecting a lot of positive feedback on this one.