A Trip To the Playground

It's beautiful out today. The sun is shining and the humidity isn't too bad. It's a perfect day for a trip to the playground.

We're lucky enough to have two playgrounds within walking distance of us. So, I packed up the Bear and we were off!

"Are we there yet, dad?"

"These wood chips look interesting. I think I'll eat some."

"Ooo slide! Sliiiiiiiiide!!!"

 "What is this thing and why can't I climb it? Take me on it right now."

 "Whew, I'm exhausted. I'll just relax here for a minute."

Who Needs Sleep? Part 2

Click here for Part 1 of the "Who Needs Sleep?" saga.

For the rest of the Week of No Sleep, my wife and I took turns trying to get the Bear to fall back asleep quickly and efficiently. But each time we put her back in crib, she would immediately start wailing. When it was my turn, I could get her back to sleep holding her in my arms (with her head resting on my shoulder ohmygodcutestthingever). But every time I went to put her back in her crib, I swear she started crying when I even thought about it. Like she knew. Like she took pleasure in robbing me of precious rest. 

We tried everything to get her back to sleep. My wife tried laying on the floor next to the Bear's crib. Didn't work. I tried speaking to the Bear in a firm, fatherly voice: "It is not wakey time, it is sleepy time." Didn't work. My wife tried rubbing the Bear's back and singing to her. Didn't work. We tried letting her cry it out. Didn't work. We tried giving her a bottle. Didn't work. Still, every time we briefly got her back to sleep, tried to put her in her crib, and left her room, she'd start crying again.

Sure, either one of us could've slept in the guest bed with her every night. But I'm terrified I'll roll over on her and my wife never really gets to back to sleep when she does that. We were out of options and felt we'd reached the end. Part of us came to grips with the fact that we might never sleep again.

Who Needs Sleep? Part 1

Ever since she was born, the Bear has always been a good sleeper. At night, anyway. She, like her mom, is definitely not a napper. I think I've seen my wife take like two naps in the seven years I've known her. For whatever reason, naps just aren't her thing. I, on the other hand, could be a professional napper. I can nap anywhere at any time, for as little as five minutes to as long as five hours. Every time I'm on a plane or in a car (not driving, obviously), I'm usually asleep within two minutes. Give me a couch and I'm down for the count. 

The Bear definitely got her mother's napping genes, or lack thereof. 

No, the Bear's been strictly a catnapper from the time we brought her home from the hospital. 30 minutes here, an hour there. Just enough time for her mom or I to get a shower or inhale lunch. I think her longest nap ever was three hours, and that was after a night of beckoning the screaming and crying gods for four hours in the middle of the night. Don't get me wrong, I've tried my hardest to make her a napper. I've tried singing to her, humming, giving her bottles, darkening to her bedroom to near pitch blackness, and playing 'white noise' music to make her sleepy. Nothing has worked. At this point, I guess it's probably best to give up the dream and accept reality: she is not, and most likely won't ever be, a napper.

My wife and I try to rationalize our daughter's sleeping habits by claiming that it's better to have a baby who sleeps through the night for a ten to 12 hour stretch--and doesn't nap--than a baby who will nap but get up one or two (or three) times a night. But, as Ayn Rand said, "Rationalization is not a process of perceiving reality, but of attempting to make reality fit one's emotions." Well then. 

Having a baby who doesn't nap during the day but sleeps all night is certainly not a bad thing. In fact, it's actually pretty good; we're truly blessed that we have a child who sleeps so well. Most parents aren't bestowed the gift of continuous sleep every night, as we are. My wife and I have friends whose kids get up multiple times a night. My sister's two-year-old still gets up at least three times. When she was a newborn and other parents asked how the Bear was sleeping, we were actually embarrassed to say she slept through the night from such a young age, knowing it was not the norm. In fact, we felt sort of guilty and didn't want to make other parents feel bad (worse?) about their struggles with their baby's sleeping. So, we did what any self-respecting parent does. We lied. It just seemed easier to have those parents struggling with a sleepless baby commiserate with us rather than explain how we got our child to sleep so well. Honestly, there wasn't anything we were specifically doing. We just got lucky. 

At this point, I know what you're thinking. Yes, I'm well aware that karma will come around and our next baby will probably be a vampire and be up all night. However, with all that being said, I would like a midday nap every once in a while. They're glorious and refreshing. But, alas, I'm a material girl in a material world napless dad in a napless world. 

Like I said, the Bear rarely ever naps during the day. We're lucky if she snoozes for a half an hour in the car or while she gets her afternoon bottle. On the other side of the coin, while we don't have a napper on our hands, we have come to rely on the Bear to sleep through the night and thus provide us, her hard-working parents, with night after night of uninterrupted sleep. Generally, from the time she was about six weeks old, the Bear has slept from about 9 o'clock straight through to 7 the next morning.  We've been very lucky in that regard.

So, when you grow accustomed to uninterrupted sleep, the nights where you're up with you baby for long stretches in the middle of the night are that much more difficult. They seem to hit you much harder. This past week was one of those times. 

If the Shoe Fits...

Since the Bear is pretty much a full-time walker now, my wife and I thought it was about time we bought her a pair of shoes.  She started taking a few steps here and there a few months ago and usually made it about two feet until she fell over.  Now, however, she hardly ever crawls anymore and, for the most part, walks whenever she wants to get around. Yes, she still falls (a lot), but she is getting more comfortable--and faster--each day. I remember when she was just a few months old and I would say that I couldn't wait until she started walking. I regret that. Now, I spend about 90% of my day following around a tiny human who seems to disregard all social conventions when it comes to walking in a straight line and has no regard for who (the dogs) or what (walls and furniture) she walks in to. Regardless, it is amazing to watch her grow more confident every day with her newfound abilities. She embraces walking with a fervor that most adults, who've been walking for years, seem to take for granted. Sometimes, she'll hold her arms straight up in the air as she walks. She's either doing a 'V' for victory to celebrate her accomplishment or she's using some new balancing technique that only toddlers know about.

The Bear absolutely loves walking, so much so that I secretly wish she'd just take a break every once in a while and sit. Even for five minutes. But, no. She walks all the time. She must take half a million steps a day, and that's a conservative estimate; I might even put a pedometer on her as a baby science experiment just to confirm my hypothesis. If there weren't the walls of our house keeping her contained, I'm convinced she'd walk until she passed out from exhaustion. Her incessant walking kind of reminds me of Forrest Gump when he ran across the country a bunch of times just for the hell of it. I bet if I asked the Bear her thoughts on the matter, (and if the Bear could talk, of course), she'd reply, "I...was...waaaaaaaaaalking." God help me when she starts running or climbing stairs. I'm not ready for that, from an emotional or stamina standpoint. But, alas, I'm not one to stand in the way of her evolution as a mobile being. She loves walking and she's getting so good at it. Plus, it's really awesome to watch her grow up, even if it's happening a little too fast for my liking. I love being able to watch her development on a daily basis.

Up until now, the Bear has gone au natural and walked barefoot or with socks on. But that won't cut it for walking around the backyard or at the park, which we go to quite often. So, since she seems intent on this whole walking to get around thing, we decided it was time to get some appropriate footwear. Now, there are two things to consider when buying a one-year-old shoes: where to get them and what kind to get. I suggested we get her some sweet Chuck Taylors from Foot Locker. She'd instantly earn some style points and street cred. My wife politely told me she doesn't need to be cool or impress anyone with her sneakers. She's one, the only people she knows are us, and she doesn't even know what a Chuck Taylor is. I played the 'cool' card, saying how hilarious and awesome she'd look. My wife played the 'I'm in charge' card and simply said, "No." Oh. She suggested getting practical sneakers from Stride Rite that would help her get traction on all different kinds of surfaces. I threw in one final protest: "She's my daughter, too, and I think I have a say in what kind of shoes she wears."

Nonetheless, we went to Stride Rite to pick out a pair of functional, affordable, and conservative sneakers, despite my continued and adamant protests with my whole-hearted approval.

Happy Father's Day!

While this is technically my second Father's Day (the Bear was just about a month old last year), this really feels like my first 'official' one. This time last year, fatherhood was a very new thing. Specifically, the first month of being a dad now seems like a total blur, clouded with an overwhelming sense of exhaustion, stress, and general confusion. I was absolutely thrilled about being a dad and certainly felt blessed and lucky, but confusion might've been the most prevalent emotion in our house last year, at least on my end. What do I do when I'm with the baby alone and I have to go to the bathroom? How do I know when she's hungry? Will I ever be able to shower again? Yet, for every moment of stress and confusion, there were many more moments when it was just me and my little one. Moments like this one:

Admittedly, as I'm sure is the case with most new dads and parents, Google helped me a lot in my most intense moments of confusion and answered myriad questions about raising a child I was too afraid ashamed to ask another real-life human. Seriously, if you were to check my Google search history from this time last year, you'd think I was the most ignorant dad (or person) ever. But, judging from the autofill results that came up when I began one search 'How to tell if your baby,' I'm not the only dad out there that gets seriously confused. One dad actually wondered how to tell if his baby had gas. Interesting. I don't have much room to talk, though, since I once Googled how to change a diaper. While I can laugh about it now (and change a diaper without the internet's help, thankyouverymuch), there was something slightly comforting that so many other people out there were looking for the same help I was. A lot of other people in fact. For example, there's 51,800 results on YouTube when you search how to change a diaper.  For real. Google provides over 300,000 results when you want to know if your baby has colic. It was nice to know I had a whole crew with me on the S.S. Dad.

Like I said, the first month with the Bear was kind of a blur.  Aside from the sleep deprivation and general chaos that comes with being responsible for a tiny, helpless human's life, what it meant to be a dad hadn't really sunk in yet. Maybe I was so preoccupied and overwhelmed with balancing all my new dad responsibilities with all my other responsibilities that I never took the time to really acknowledge all the changes going on around me. Or maybe I was just too busy doing load after load of tiny laundry. Regardless, the true enormity of being a dad hadn't hit me.

But, a year later, it has.  And the weight of being a dad has hit me hard.

Let's Go To Panera and Barnes and Noble

Last week, I decided to take to the Bear to Panera Bread and Barnes and Noble.  Not because she's especially fond of chipotle chicken sandwiches or the latest John Green book, but more because I needed to get out of the house.  There's only so many hours a person can follow a toddler waddle through the same three rooms before going stir crazy.

But before I get into our Panera and Barnes and Noble adventure, let me clear something up first. Waddle is sort of a misleading term.  At the Bear's last checkup, our doctor said she walks like Frankenstein: feet dragging on the floor, legs always rigidly straight, arms projected outward.  Actually, she sort of looks like someone walking in flippers.  But while Frankenstein is certainly an apt comparison for the Bear's walking style, I offer another one.  The Bear, just learning the art of two-legged mobility, walks like a drunk old man: she never---never--walks in a straight line, she'll usually grab onto whatever is within reach to keep her balance, including my leg hair or one of the dogs' ears, it takes her roughly 35 minutes to walk the 100 hundred feet from the front door to the back door of our house (we live in a twin, so all the rooms are in a line), and she falls to the ground every three feet in a heap of glory devoid of any sense of gravity or attempt to brace her fall.  It's a good thing her butt is heavily padded by an expensive (read: organic) diaper.

Any way, back to the self-inflicted punishment adventure to Panera and Barnes and Noble. If you've never been to Panera at lunch, then you've never experienced true chaos.  Going to Panera at lunch is like visiting the ninth circle of Hell.  On Black Friday.  In a blizzard.  There were people literally everywhere, everyone from business people taking a quick lunch to high school and college students catching up texting other people not at lunch.  And then there was me.

Is 2014 the Year of the Dad?

I came across an interesting article this morning.  In The Daily Beast article, the author explains how, in 2014, the role of 'dad' has exponentially changed in the last few decades.  Dads are no longer money-makers and couch-sitters who watch sports while mom does the dishes, makes dinner, and takes care of the kids.  Instead, dads are more involved in their kids' lives than ever. In fact, there's been a dearth of dad-focused books, reality TV shows, and blogs lately, everything from DIY dad books to advice manuals for dads. Moreover, there are also a ton of blogs focused on stories of fatherhood and just plain funny dad-centric tales. Finally, as the author points out, dads who contribute their fair share of "household drudgery" are more likely to have daughters who eschew "gender-stereotypic" constraints when expressing their career aspirations.  For example, if girls see their dad folding laundry, they're more likely to become CEOs or firefighters. So, since I'm the one who does the laundry in our house (my wife calls me the Laundry Monster), maybe the Bear will grow up to own her own company or be president one day.  "Father of the President" has a nice ring to it.  Plus, at the very least, I definitely get some Dad of the Year points for folding our family's towels.

As a temporary stay-at-home dad who labels himself 'involved' and 'progressive,' I thought this article was especially poignant. You can check it out here.

Welcome to the Summer of Dad!

Hi all,

I'm a stay-at-home dad...well, sort of. I teach 9th and 10th grade English at a local private school and, thanks to a very favorable school calendar, I have the opportunity to spend the summer at home with my 1-year-old daughter.  We'll call her the Bear.

At the school where I teach, we usually break for summer by Memorial Day.  That's remarkably early for a high school in the Philadelphia area; most schools are in session until the second or third week of June.  My sister, a Spanish teacher in the area, often jokes that she'll be celebrating the Fourth of July in school.  This past winter, with the seemingly endless barrage of snow, most schools were forced into a longer-than-usual academic year.  I'm lucky in the sense that my school, even without the snow, has a shorter calendar than most schools.  Additionally, when most schools have to tack on snow days at the end of the year, extending the year even further into June, the multiple snow days we had (Three? Four? I lost count after five.) were essentially ignored and were never made up. Here's how I imagine that administrative conversation went:

     Administrator 1: Should we make up all the snow days we had?
     Administrator 2: Nah.  Let's end at our usual time.
     Administrator 1: OK then.  On to other matters...

Most people would relish the opportunity to have three months off in between Memorial Day and Labor Day. Fortunately for me, I have that opportunity every year as a teacher. Plus, my summer break just happens to be longer than most, for which I'm thankful.

When I first started teaching and wasn't married, I would use the long summer months to go down the shore, take naps, attend concerts (mid-week too, something unheard of now), work part-time at the Phillies as an usher, go to parties after games, take naps, read books, and travel a bit. Oh, and take naps. Lord, I miss taking naps.

Well, since the Bear came along last May, my "long" summer months have been spent waking up early, not taking naps, changing roughly 7,911 diapers (seriously, how does so much poop come out of such a tiny body?), not taking naps, building castles out of toy blocks only to have the Bear tornado through and wreak havoc on my makeshift city of wonders, slyly giggling the whole time she was destroying my work Godzilla-style, planning and hosting tea parties with Belle, Ariel, and Cookie Monster, and tirelessly trying to keep the Bear from eating our dogs' tails or seeing if she's electrically charged by sticking her tiny fingers in every outlet in our house.  Oh, and not taking naps.

Yes, my summers have transformed from three months of good-times-with-no-responsibilities to three months of exhausting-work-trying-to-keep-another-human-alive.  And you know what?  I wouldn't have it any other way.

A lot of my friends and family have young kids, and there's one thing they all have in common: they wish they could spend more time at home.  But, alas, the need to, you now, feed and clothe their kids necessitates full-time jobs.  There's a trade-off, it seems, when you have kids.  You could spend more time at home and have the kids go through life naked and hungry. Or, you could go to work from 9 to 5, making enough money to clothe and feed the kids, but sacrificing a lot of time and memories with the kids in the process.  I'm in the enviable position of being able to have the best of both worlds.  Yes, I have a full-time job, a job that I love and from which I get a lot of fulfillment (albeit, as is the case with most teachers, not nearly enough money).  But, the nature of my job also allows me to spend a lot of time at home with my daughter for a good chunk of the year.  Honestly, I thought about changing careers so that I could make more money, but one thing that teaching offers me that most other careers don't is that opportunity to spend three months a year making memories and messes with my daughter.  There's no amount of money that can lure me away from that opportunity. Well, except maybe doing whatever it is that the Kardashians do to make money, which, to me, seems to consist entirely of eating salads and designing socks that no one buys. Nonetheless, I know a lot of people in my position (that is, having kids) might be jealous of the opportunity I have.  And I'm not going to apologize for it; instead, I'm going to take advantage of it, because I know not a lot of people get the chance I have.  Oh, I'm also going to document it on the internet.  So there's that.

When the Bear was born last May, I thought about starting a blog chronicling our time together over the summer, my first summer as 'dad'.  But then I realized that one-, two-, and three-month old babies don't really do much.  Every entry would've probably been titled "Today, the Bear ate," "Today, the Bear slept," "Today, the Bear pooped," or "Today, the Bear threw up on both me and the dogs."  Nonetheless, another school year has come and gone and my second summer as 'dad' has arrived.  And this time around, the Bear does more than just eat, sleep, and poop.  She just started walking a few months back, she speaks (screams? grunts?) a few words, she eats cell phones, she laughs all the time, and she's curious about discovering the world around her, even if that world consists of our house and the park around the corner.  So, I thought the time was perfect to start a blog.  Hence, "The Summer of Dad" was borne.

I'm doing this for two reasons.  One, I want to share some things that I've learned about what it means to be a dad in 2014 (and beyond).  Hopefully, the things I have learned and will learn will resonate with other dads out there.  Two, I want to give my daughter something tangible that she can read a few years from now that will serve as a memory for our time together, a time before her memories become permanent.

My plan (for now) is to post an entry every day about what the Bear and I do.  I'll also post pictures of our adventures.  But, as anyone with kids knows, plans are well and good until one of the kids has an explosive bowel movement and a complete delousing is in order.

I hope you'll enjoy the entries and our stories.  Check in every now and again to see what the Bear and I are up to during the Summer of Dad!

Geez, one day into the #summerofdad and she's already taking naps in the grass.