One of the most intimidating parts of this whole fatherhood thing is not gagging at the diapers the concept that I am responsible for raising this little human. Granted, she probably has some innate personality traits that I can’t change, but I’m sure she wasn’t born a Raiders fan, wanting to snowboard, quoting Dune, or any of the other little things that make a person, a person (what, everyone quotes Dune, don’t they?).
So how far do you take it? When does exposing your child to new things cross the line into experimentation or, even worse, indoctrination.
I guess the best thing to do is to expose her to as much as possible and let her dictate which path(s) she’ll explore. But she’s still learning the Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear:
I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
Behold, the only shirt you’ll need for what I assume is a long time: the Hanes white tee shirt. 
It’s been six months and this is the only shirt I wear in the house because it’s the only thing that can withstand constant contact with my daughter. From the inevitable winter snots, the teething drools, the feeding spit ups, and yes, the diaper blow-outs, this shirt can handle them all. More specifically, you won’t care that your white tee just got snotted, drooled, spit or pooped on; just put it in the wash and grab another one. If it’s too badly damaged, throw it away and buy another three pack at Target for $8.
Given that my sweet little girl will probably continue to be a leaking mess (but an adorable leaking mess) for the foreseeable future, I’ll probably single-handedly keep Hanes in business for the next 18 months.
FYI – In the interest of fairness, I have test-driven the Fruit of the Loom version, but don’t find it fits as well or holds up as well. Don’t say I never did anything for you.
If only they made a long sleeve version for the winter. . .
image from pixie stix kids pix
There are probably more books on how to care for your baby out there than there are babies. When you first get pregnant, people tell you which one they swear by and generally, a few bubble up as the popular choices. People who are done having children will even give you their books. No matter what, they all have one that they couldn’t live without.
All of this focus on training methods and parenting philosophies and guidelines is helpful to a point to a new father, but after a while, information paralysis starts to set in. All of the books we have can’t ALL be right. A few of them directly contradict each other, but people I trust and respect have used them all, so what conclusions should I draw from that? Are some books right about some things like feedings and wrong about other things like sleeping?
The flip side of all this information is that if you DON”T have a plan or philosophy or method, or don’t follow the book exactly then you start to feel like you’re doing it wrong. Equally stressful.
While I don’t think “winging it” is the way to go, I’ve found my happy medium is reached after researching a topic/issue in a few books to figure out where the consensus lies. Then my wife and I determine what we want for our daughter (and ourselves) and the best way to reach that goal. The books are helpful guidelines, but they don’t rule what we do. So far, our daughter is happy, healthy and hitting her developmental milestones. We must be dong something right.
Maybe I’ll write a book about this.
The books we’ve consulted:
Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child – so many people told us this book was great. While it does have great info, the writing style can make you feel anxious and irresponsible if you don’t follow it exactly. Also called “You’re Doing it Wrong” in my household.
What to Expect the First Year – or, to paraphrase the Juggle: “All the Horrible Things That Can Possibly Go Wrong The First Year” – still a very comprehensive survey of baby’s first year
The Baby Whisperer – a blend of common sense and new-agey feeling advice from an English woman who kind of comes across as your Grandmother mixed with that woman from Supernanny.
Seriously, don’t ever say this.
As part of our DIY baby welcoming ceremony, my wife and I asked a few people to come forward and offer one thing that they wish Abigail experience in her lifetime. We gave them free rein, telling them it could be something esoteric or something more practical. Wishes included things like family, urgency and even a love of dolls.
After one of my friends came up to me and told me his one word wish (thanks Will), I had an idea and, after the day was over, emailed all of our guests and asked them for one WORD to capture what they wish Abigail experience in her life. The responses were fantastic, various, and sometimes in need of distillation when the responses were not limited to one word. Not a problem; my wife is a writer, so words are what she does.
My goal was to take all of these words and create a canvas print of the word cloud generated in wordle to hang in my daughter’s room. We were not disappointed with the results*.
word cloud for life
This print is a visible reminder of all of the people who care for her and will hopefully serve as inspiration for her as she grows up. It will also be a kind of road map for me of what I’m supposed to instill in her. She’s not going to learn selflessness by reading it as a word; she has to see it in me.
I hope she keeps it up forever, but if she decides to ditch it when she’s a teenager, I’m sure her mother and I will store it in the attic until such time as she asks for it back. Probably when she has her first child.
*while the final result is really superb, getting there was not the easiest thing for me. Here’s what you need to do:
- Generate a word cloud in wordle – repeated words get bigger
- play with the colors and design in wordle until you get one you like
- save it and copy the link generated
- print it as a pdf – you may have to download software, but wordle’s FAQ tells you how
- find someone with photoshop and convert the pdf to a jpeg
- ask that person to create a 2″ bleed of the background color around the border (this is what gets stretched over the frame)
- take that jpeg file and upload to a photo printing site of your choice. I used Shutterfly b/c they had a sale going on.
- order your wall canvas
- write a note on the back before you hang it
- enjoy
I am continually being reminded of how deeply gender assigned roles are rooted. It is almost impossible to buy a baby girl any item of clothing that isn’t pink. Just as it is almost impossible to buy a boy any clothing that isn’t blue. OK, fine. Pink is cute and I can buy the blue clothes, also. But the socks that look like shoes with rhinestones where the buckle would be and printed with the words “daddy’s” and “princess” on the soles? W.T.F.?
Neither I nor my wife, being American, are royalty. Therefore, neither is my daughter. Nor, I imagine, are the majority of girls born in this country. So what is with the “princess” shit? I don’t think I’ve ever seen any boy’s clothing with “mommy’s little prince” printed on it.
If the word princess stopped at merely having the connotation of being “mannered and pleasant” it would be problematic, but it doesn’t stop there. No, it doesn’t. Somehow, princesses are supposed to not only be pretty and mannered and pleasant (read: agree to everything men say), but they are supposed to enjoy spending time in the kitchen. 
What kind of con is this? Somehow, we’re selling girls the idea that cooking dinner is princess-like. It’s not. Princesses are fabulously wealthy people who have a staff dedicated to making sure they never have to do things like cook.
I’m one of four boys. I grew up playing with trucks, footballs, legos and playmobiles. Unstructured play generally revolved around wrestling with my brothers. Or throwing things at each other. There was no Executive Boardroom playset where you and your boys sat around a conference table huddled around a toy 3Com phone and a PowerPoint graph. Why? Cause that shit sucks to an 8 year old. But somehow, we think little girls will think playing in the kitchen is. . . fun?
Thankfully, my daughter has my wife as a role model. After reading the blog FBomb, I know there’s hope that girls can make it out of childhood with their heads on straight. And not because they’re trying to hold the tiara on.
(photo of Disney’s Princess Kitchen. I refuse to link to it. Because it is evil.)
…or your nerves, when the baby is crying and just.won’t.stop.
You’re the dad and you’ve decided it’s up to you to take the wailing, so your wife can have some peace of mind (or so she can leave the house and get some peace of mind).
Now what? Get ye to a music player. It may help you 1) think of something to sing to her which may help soothe her, 2) help distract YOU from the screaming infant, and 3) keep you from fixating on figuring out how long she’s been crying. Instead of looking at your watch (which you’re not wearing because it could scratch the baby), you can say to yourself: “Oh, she’s only been crying for three songs. That’s not so bad.”
Time as units of songs? Maybe that’s ONE good idea that came out of the two hours of my life I lost in watching Hudson Hawk.
Maybe not.
I’m a reader, my wife is a reader and professional writer. So our daughter growing up without books would be impossible. I’ve noticed that not all children’s books are created equal and so will set about reviewing the good, the bad and the weird in hopes of setting some order to the bookshelf. I’ll start with two of the best I’ve read yet:
I have to admit that I have no memory of either of these books being part of my childhood. Since the birth of my daughter I have discovered that I was apparently one of the few people to grow up without them. I know this because not only did my wife get that “awww” look on her face every time she mentioned Goodnight Moon, but we’ve received at least two of each book as gifts for the baby. Clearly, there was something to them.
When we finally got to the stage where the baby seemed like she would enjoy the experience of being read to, I was not disappointed by either. Margaret Wise Brown has a wonderfully simple conception of a children’s bedtime book and each book captures the cadence of verbally rocking a child to sleep. The fact that we have both of these books in board book format is extremely helpful, since you really only get one hand for the book, while the other is holding the baby.
My four month old can’t appreciate the illustrations yet, but I’m sure she’ll get a kick out of searching for the little mouse in GM and in pointing out the bunny fish in RB once she can. I’ll admit it; I did when I first opened the books.
I’m glad my wife and all of our friends had these books in their childhoods or I would have missed out on sharing them with my daughter. Plus, when she’s older, we can recreate this scene from the Wire:
(nb: links to each book are affiliate links to IndieBound. Please support your local Independent Bookstore)
Last weekend, my wife and I held what we took to calling a “naming ceremony” for our daughter. Obviously, she already has a name, but the fact that my wife and I have decided not to raise our daughter within a religious tradition necessitates certain verbal gymnastics. That’s right: I believe that there is no god, my wife is unsure. At the very least, neither of us feels there is any religion that has the answer, hence the desire for an agnostic/skeptic/humanist upbringing.
However, my wife and I believe that marking important milestones and sharing them with the people in our lives is important, and religions are VERY good at ritual.
So we struggled with the fact that there are no (that I’m aware of) “atheist rituals.” At some point, we realised that ritual just provides a reason for a group of people to get together to celebrate, so my wife and I made up our own.
We still had a big event with our friends, family and neighbors; we still had a ceremony lead by a very spiritual man; we designated two people as our daughter’s gaurdians should bad things happen to my wife and I; the baby was still annointed with water; we had a party afterwards.
Creating our own personal introduction ceremony turned out to be awesome (in the original sense) and consecrated my daughter with a sense of wonder and curiousity for the world. This is all I could ask for her.
Amen.
