Monday, July 21, 2008 - 10:52
Pregnancy
The thrill is as overwhelming as the uncertainty that dominates your time.
"Do we need that?"
"Breast feeding or bottle?"
"Diaper Genie or Diaper Champ?"
Plus binkies, onsies, unsolicited advice from strangers, and on and on. Your every thought is of just how life-altering that little, growing bundle will be. There is much to discuss.
Birth
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Monday, July 7, 2008 - 10:54
When I was young, our TV offered four options: Snow, snow, snow, and channel 16. Yet, it was always on. The dial listed 13 channels, but that was a lie.
Each turn clicked to the next static-y station. Most of the time we settled on Bowling for Dollars or M*A*S*H. Saturday was TV Day in our world, and my sisters and I sat glued to the screen to view the four weekly hours of programming meant for us. Tom and Jerry, Deputy Dog, and the Road Runner fought, schemed, and plotted their way into our hearts. And who could forget the old anvil-to-the-head trick?
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Tuesday, June 17, 2008 - 12:34
I’ve got a small, round scar on my right arm. It’s part of a matching set; its counterpart is on my left arm in nearly the same spot. They’re a result of my own failure to follow instructions.
Don’t scratch.
Chicken pox swept through my 2nd grade like the Angel of Death. At one point, every student was stuck at home, watching The Price Is Right and smearing themselves with calamine lotion.
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Monday, June 9, 2008 - 12:22
The first time Grace ever threw up -- not spit up, but a full evacuation of her tiny little innards -- was all over me. In fact, the two of us were home alone.
That time she fell down the stairs and spent the night in the hospital, I was carrying her.
The day William decided to see what the inside of his forehead looks like by bashing it onto the fireplace ... me again.
No, I'm not negligent or clumsy. There's something much greater than that at work here. It's the Baby Gods. They're testing me, and I don't know why.
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Monday, June 2, 2008 - 10:23
Last weekend, I did something that I'm not proud of. As part of my punishment, I've decided to share my story with all of you. Before I begin, let me present my flimsy case.
It's been well documented that my Grace is the shy kid. Or she has been, at least. Recently she's been more of the social butterfly type, but I'm not convinced that the shy girl who stands alone on the playground won't return.
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Tuesday, May 27, 2008 - 09:15
You've probably seen -- or even participated in -- a preschool graduation. Several antsy five-year-olds stand around with paper hats and loosely bound scrolls declaring their ability to identify numbers and count to twenty. Choked up parents wave and smile, snap pictures and shoot video. I've always observed this little ritual with the same thought in my head.
What a silly thing.
It's not like this is Harvard, people. We're talking about preschool. This seemed like excessive celebration for minor academic achievements.
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Monday, May 19, 2008 - 10:00
Last weekend I visited with a friend who is pregnant with her first. It was fun to talk with the two future parents and hear in their voices the same excitement and anticipation I felt five years ago, before Grace was born. Though I must admit, I had to stifle hysterical laughter when dad-to-be said, "I'm not worried about it at all. I mean, my life's not going to change...."
You just keep telling yourself that.
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Monday, May 12, 2008 - 12:10
1. Please stop sending me dress-up clothes
Well-intentioned friends and relatives have been sending us dress-up clothes. A bevy of princess dresses can trash a bedroom in less than five minutes. The cleanup time is substantially greater, and accompanied by a soundtrack of whining and negotiation:
"Honey, you clean up these dresses and I'll help you zip it."
"But I caaaaaan't. I'm too tiiiiired."
"You pick up these pink ones, honey, and daddy will help with the rest."
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Monday, May 5, 2008 - 15:35
I recently read an article from The Washington Post entitled "Feeling Her Pain," all about men being present in the delivery room. When my parents were born, expectant fathers could be found pacing in the waiting room. By the time my sisters and I were born ('70s), many hospitals were beginning to give dads the option of attending the actual birth. Today, it's almost expected that we be in "the room." I attended the births of both of my kids, and I was extremely anxious both times (especially the first time around).
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Monday, April 28, 2008 - 10:51
I'm lying in my bed. The room is the optimal temperature. The sheets and blankets still have that fresh-from-the-laundry smell from last night's washing. The pillow is perfectly fluffed. I think a bird outside is tweeting. I'm floating in that lovely, half-awake, half-asleep state. Then I hear it.
"Daddy."
It's William.
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