Ever wonder what bed time is like for Elsie? Click below to find out:
Well, it has been a while since I last wrote, and for that I apologize. It’s not that I don’t care about you, it’s just that I don’t have much to write about AND I don’t care about you. Babies don’t really do anything interesting, so you can’t blame me for a little dry spell. In order to keep you titillated, I’m just going to write exactly what’s happening at this very moment. Ready, set, go…
The time is 6:57 PM and Gretchen has taken a trip to the outlet mall to return a shirt that wasn’t worth buying in the first place. I volunteered to stay home with Elsie in order to both bond with my daughter and make up for the fact that my only fatherly contributions thus far are cleaning up bodily waste and mowing the grass. I figured Gretchen could use some time alone and since she agreed to pick up Chinese food, I still get some benefit out of the deal. So here I sit in a living room that used to be a place of calm, relaxing respite after a long day of work, surrounded by empty bottles, burp clothes, and a half eaten salad.
My sweet Elsie is sitting in a fancy, new swing we are borrowing from a friend. This swing is no normal swing mind you… no no no… this is a 4moms Mommaroo. This contraption is like a magic robot that takes over the parenting responsibilities so daddy can work on his fledgling writing career (Note: In this sentence, “writing career” should be read as “unpaid writing hobby with no career potential”). Seriously, this thing has five swing types plus a built in noisemaker that sounds like the ocean. So, even though I am in the middle of Pennsylvania farm country, my living room sounds like crashing waves of the crack-needle covered Jersey Shore. Bliss.
Elsie is sleeping soundly with one hand touching the top of her head and the other extended out like she wants to punch something. Every now and then she will wake herself with a grunt that sounds like Serena Williams in a third set tiebreaker. We have yet to determine the cause of these grunts, but we assume they are due to hunger or gas. Sadly, I am unable to help because my milk supply hasn’t come in and I can’t even alleviate my own gas. I’m trying to type softly, but based on the pacifier hanging half way out of her mouth, I’m starting to think she couldn’t care less.
Looking to my left, I see our pack-and-play that is now being used as a second dresser. Beneath the mountain of clothes is a package of wipes that I hate. I know it sounds weird to hate an inanimate object, but whoever designed this package of wipes should be flogged. Apparently they thought the baby would be fetching her own wipes, and made the hole inaccessible to any person with normal sized fingers.
Slightly past the pack-and-play dresser is what used to be our kitchen. My beautiful, hand made table is nothing more than a storage area for miscellaneous breast pump equipment and stray articles of clothing. No, no, I’m sorry. Not the peas. I said pass the breast flange. I guess I envisioned family dinners where we all sit down and grasp hands, but instead, we eat lukewarm leftovers while mommy pumps and daddy nods off to episodes of Wheel of Fortune.
Hey, the garage door is opening.! As I wait for Gretchen to saunter into the house with sacs full of General Tso’s Chicken, I’m using my toes to pick up a pacifier.
Shhhhh….don’t tell her.
Quote of the day:
Today I changed the lyrics of “Jesus Loves Me” to “Elsie’s pooping this I know.” Is that bad?- Gretchen
1.) Dressing my baby is like dressing a misshapen, wooden plank. Perfectly relaxed and malleable for the last three hours, but unsnap a single button and she tenses up like rigamortis set in. Good luck pulling that ninety degree angled elbow through a thin, cylinder shaped sleeve.
2.) Poop can be expelled with astonishing trajectory. Good thing this only happens at 3:45 AM when my mind isn’t quick enough to tell my body to move out of the way. It’s like taking a bath in soggy, mustard colored corn flakes.
3.) Speaking of poop… babies poop as soon as you change their diaper. After painstakingly cleaning every crevice of my child and finagling her rigid limbs back into her third day in-a-row pajamas, she simply fills those diapers up for round two.
4.) I would like to murder all the people who create baby clothes. Seriously? 12-15 buttons on every piece of clothing? With the way my daughter squirms, trying to button your stupid snaps is like playing darts on a sailboat. Not only that, but every one of you decided to place your buttons in completely different patterns. If it takes an instruction manual to put on your line of clothing, I hate you.
5.) My sleep is very important, but my child doesn’t give a crap about that. Maybe those Vitamin-D drops contain a full dose of “Never Go To Sleep, So Daddy has to Stay Up With You” serum. And just when I think she is ready to dose off, I lay her down and you would have thought I laid in her in a pile of bees. TempurPedic should create a line of bedding called Daddy’s Tired Arms.
6.) Leaving the house takes anywhere from 45 minutes to 30 hours. I thought waiting on my wife to get her make up done was going to be the death of me, but alas, the baby wins again! My daughter has more accessories than Elton John and Lady Gaga combined (which when combined makes Elton Gaga). I used to be able to simply walk to my car and drive away, but now I run the equivalent of a 5K each time I want to go to Target.
7.) Going back to work means answering the same three questions over and over again. How’s your wife doing? She’s fine. How’s the baby doing? She’s fine. Are you getting any sleep? No, you idiot.
8.) Farting and burping are worthy of celebration. When my baby burps after feeding, you would have thought she cured cancer. We basically organize a parade in the neighborhood each time gas is expelled.
9.) Baby books are horribly stupid. In fact, I am going to write a baby book right now….in front of your eyes. Ready…..let’s go. Cats say meow. Some cats are black and some are brown. Do you like cats? Smile for the cat. Now smile at Daddy. BOOM! Bestseller.
10.) I couldn’t have done it without my friends and family. I am only writing this one because in order for a blog to go viral, it must contain at least one bullet point that has a serious tone. This bullet point must be at the very end in order to drive home an emotional connection. So….friends and family are vitally important to surviving the first two weeks. Here’s a freaking tissue. Stop your crying.
Quote of the Week:
“I feel like I’m her personal cow.”- My wife after feeding my daughter.
The cold, hard floor of the bathroom cracked against my knees. Even with the door shut I could hear the sound of my newborn daughter screaming as she received her first bath. A little over an hour had passed since she took her initial breath and my ability to hold together a myriad of emotions had reached its limit. My limp body crumbled down towards the light blue tiles, tears flowing freely from my tired eyes.
As I wept, my mind raced with thoughts of sleepless nights and overwhelming responsibilities. Just hours before, I felt as though my life was completely under control. Drive to work. Attend some meetings. Go home and eat dinner. My days were calculated and flowed perfectly within the context of the mostly carefree life I had created. Those cries on the other side of the door represented chaos to me, and I shook with fear. In that sterile, dimly lit space, I cried out to God, “I need you, please! I need you!” And then I sat there, silently crying next to the emergency pull cord.
I realize I have a lot to learn when it comes to being a father, but had no idea the lessons would begin so quickly. I was overwhelmed with joy that my daughter had been born, yet mentally listed all the ways she was going to ruin my “perfect” life. Joy, fear, love, excitement, and gratitude all lost out to selfishness in those early moments of her life. I wanted control so badly that I cried more for what I was losing than what I had gained. The florescent lights glared across my swollen eyes and for only the third time in my life, I felt God speak to me directly: “You never had control to begin with. Now get up and go be her father.”
And then I held her.
Her warm body settled into the crook of my arm and I looked down at her smooth face. My previous experience holding babies was limited to awkward, rigid arm cradles that lasted for seconds at a time, but this was different. It felt normal and natural. I stared at her and the tears once again welled up in my eyes. But fear was not present. Selfishness had vanished. Chaos was nowhere to be found. A peace settled over my body like never before, and I relished my lack of control. Praise be to God the Father!
Elsie Lynn Lee was born at 6:24 AM on March 21 and at 8:43 AM, daddy started to believe the words he wrote on September 26, 2013….
I can do this. I can dad.
Matthew 6: 33-34
But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
Question: What is a house?
A.) A place where a person live
B.) A gathering place for families
C.) A multi-roomed, killer of infants
If you answered C, you must have gone through the most recent Infant Safety Class!
Designed as a way to educate parents on common safety issues related to infants, this class should be called “Congratulations Idiot, Your House Is An Infant Death Trap”. Although I’ve learned to navigate the clear safety hazards of my home with ease, my infant must be protected from its imminent doom, and it is my job to ensure success. Here are some things I learned:
1.) If your television has cords, you must get rid of them. Hmmmmmm….I’m not the Best Buy Employee of the Month, but I’m pretty confident that if I get rid of the cords, the TV won’t work. Sorry kid, but I need my Netflix.
2.) Move harsh chemicals out from under your kitchen sink and put them somewhere else. So instead of quickly killing my daughter with chemicals, I will slowly kill her through bacterial growth on my counters, because I forget where I put the cleaners.
3.) Don’t put anything in the crib that is made of soft material. So basically, 80% of what they sell at BabiesRUs is not meant to be near my child.
4.) Infant chest compressions should be done with two fingers instead of your whole hand. This isn’t too hard unless your fingers are different lengths, like most normal human beings. Five chest compressions and your knuckles cramp up like you just got done bowling.
5.) If your child starts choking, you must act quickly and calmly, slamming your hand against their shoulder blades. I once witnessed a friend perform this maneuver on her choking child and I immediately broke out into full body sweat. If my child starts choking, there is a large possibility I will just curl up into a ball and wait until a brave person shows up.
6.) All outlets should be covered and cords should be out of reach. Similar to the television, most of my lamps will no longer operate without their cords, so it looks like we’ll be raising this kid in the dark.
7.) When performing CPR on a fake baby that is not breathing, make sure their plastic tube is connected to their fake lung or you won’t be able to see their chest rising. Seriously, it doesn’t matter how hard you breathe. In addition, your unproductive, gale force wind breathing will make the rest of the class uncomfortable.
8.) Your car seat is designed to protect your child, assuming you installed it correctly. Based on this class, however, I have about a 1in 7300 chance of not screwing up the installation. Not only that, but I must remember to remove all of the unsafe parts that the car seat manufacturer forgot to mention when they were marketing their death seat to me through direct mail.
9.) Do not put mesh bumpers in the crib where your child sleeps. However, the child is free to sleep in the Pack and Play which is lined with….mesh.
My kid is totally screwed.
Today we are doing an experiment! I’ve decided to record today’s post so my sweet, southern drawl can lull you into an ICanDad stupor. For those of you who don’t like reading, feel free to hit the play button below. Hit me up with some feedback on whether or not I should keep recording the posts! Thanks!
1.) The Over Participator- When the instructor tells you to treat the fake baby doll like it’s your new baby, the “Over Participator” picks up the fake baby and immediately begins to fake breast feed. Her fake baby also receives fake infant massage for four fake hours. The “Over Participator” is the first to volunteer and the last to leave.
2.) The Specific Question Asker- Sorry, I didn’t realize that you were here for your own personal question and answer session. I know you want to know what to do with your extra breast milk, but can you not wait until after class to ask about which brand of freezer to purchase?
3.) The Answerer- The instructor of your class has been a nurse for a thousand years, but “The Answerer” can’t help but interject her own internet researched opinion. Yes, we know you read Baby Wise. Please stop talking.
4.) The Over Zealous Agree-er- Be careful, or that head of yours might pop off. When the instructor’s opinion matches with the “Over Zealous Agree-er”, you can’t miss it because her head will rage up and down like a ram fighting for its position on top a hill.
5.) The Opinion Giver- If the instructor asks a simple question, the “Opinion Giver” is not able to give a simple answer. Her well-rehearsed treatise will flow from her mouth with the vitriol of a political attack ad. Disposable diapers will kill my baby? At this point, we were just asking for your name and due date.
6.) The Comedian- This role is typically filled by one of the dads in the room. It doesn’t matter what the topic is, this guy will have your rolling on the floor with laughter…nope…wait….not laughter…..hatred. Sorry dude, but talking about SIDS doesn’t really lend itself to a one liner.
7.) The Been There Done That- Not sure why you even came back to the class after your first child, but here you are, ready to impart wisdom. While “Been There Done That” might have some excellent advice, the endless stories about her first child will eventually lead to you feeling like she probably shouldn’t be having a second.
8.) The Non Participator- Unlike “Over Participator”, the “Non Participator” will leave you wondering why they even showed up at all. Ok class, let’s practice putting the baby in a diaper. Yeah, um… I’m good. Thanks though. We havin’ a break soon?
9.) The One More Timer- As the rest of the class moves on to other things, the “One More Timer” glances at her pathetic excuse for a swaddle and asks to practice just once more. One more time inevitably leads to a fifteen-minute private lesson while the “Comedian” tries to keep everyone else entertained.
10.) The Skeazy Politician- Despite all the compelling evidence, the “Skeazy Politician” will whisper her unsolicited opinions about how the instructor is incorrect about everything. She may even pull you aside during break to campaign for support on issues like sleeping arrangements, diapering, or breast feeding.
Well, that wraps up our list. If you over zealously agree with what you’ve just heard, leave me a comment down below.
Thanks for visiting and keep on dadding!
So, I made a list of possible jobs for my daughter a while back, but pop star wasn’t on the list. After some careful thought and research into the ease of creating pop music, I decided she might as well go for it! If I can replicate today’s Top 40 tunes, so can she, right?
I present to you Pop Music Is Easy, the first YouTube video from ICanDad!
P.S. If you’ve never heard a man screech out the chorus to “Let It Go” from Frozen……now is your chance.
Men of the World,
Food has lost its taste. Love has lost its feeling. Joy has been sucked from my life through the vortex of traumatic imagery. I have tried soap and water. I have tried a scouring pad. I have scooped my eyes from their sockets with a melon baller, but nothing seems to rid me of this curse. This hollow soul has experienced the horrifying childbirth DVD and I urge you my brothers to never cast your eyes upon the debilitating spectacle. Let my experience serve as a warning to you, lest your scarred eyes gaze ahead, empty for all eternity.
They will attempt to fool you with soft narration and 1980’s bouffant hair. You may even experience a calming sensation as Casio Keyboards fill the room with melodic tones and preprogrammed drum beats. Chapter titles lilt across the screen, convincing you that the birth of your child will be as carefree as the title itself: The Birth of Your Baby, A Joyous Affair. LIARS! Do not be fooled by their tricks. This DVD is not meant for mere mortals! You must heed my warning. You must not give in to its wicked schemes. Let not down your guard, for the real battle is yet to come.
The epidural needle will be your first enemy and your eyes may need to take a moment to adjust to this new reality. Long gone are the soft breathing techniques demonstrated by the fair ladies dressed for Jazzercise. If the needle is too much to bear, please vanquish the DVD and go on with your life while you still can. You are not prepared for the rest of the journey. For the rest of you brave souls, eager to support your wives in their time of need, plow ahead at your own risk. Oh, how I long for an epidural needle to be plunged into my brain to numb my memory from its shackled prison.
Then, the fateful moment will arrive and the women will peer at you from her sterilized hospital bed. Her eyes will tell you it’s not safe, but you in your prideful stupor stare foolishly ahead. An expectant father stands awkwardly to the side while a doctor creepily narrates the critical moments before your impending doom. “It’s time to push,” he tells her. Before you know what hits you, a flesh colored watermelon is seen forcing its way into the frame. There is no turning back now! You have seen it! In your eagerness you may proclaim, “Rejoice, for the baby has arrived!” NO, YOU IGNORANT FOOL! You think you have conquered the beast?!? Let this not be your downfall! Raise your shield of manliness and brace yourself, for the placenta is coming.
When it emerged, I knew my eyes had seen too much. No! Please God, No! The moment passed so quickly, yet painfully slow. And this, men, is the deciding moment! You must make the choice to dwell upon the alarming scene laid bare before your eyes or quickly move to thoughts of life before the DVD began. I dwelt. I dwelt too long……and now I will never be the same.
Placenta has turned me into a lesser man. May you carry my message to the ends of the earth so that all men may heed my warning. If my tale has not convinced you, may God have mercy on your souls.
Fare thee well,
Wrote this a few weeks back. Don’t have time to make a video, so the song will have to stand alone…..like me at a party.