Parental Anorexia

Being a parent is hard.

Another revelation: water is wet.

Now, to prepare for this "parenthood adventure," we read quite a few books, attended a few classes, and read far to many internet articles. Of course, we'd issue the occasional "scoff," because we knew we were going to make mistakes (everyone does), and it was impossible to tell how things were really going to "go down" until the kid arrived. But, at the same time, we wanted to be "good parents," and do our due diligence in preparing for our little bundle of Bean.

Four months in, and...well, I think we're doing a good job. Henry's happy, he's healthy, he smiles and laughs all the time...and according to all the applicable indices he's developing exactly as he's supposed to (excelling in some measures, really). He's not getting sick all of the time, and he seems to be an incredibly well-behaved, mellow baby (for the most part).

But...

Something in the back of my head keeps nagging at me...that I must be "doing something wrong." For instance, as I've talked about before -- I yearn for the times when Henry is sleeping at night, or is taking a nap, or just generally entertaining himself without the need for either parent to be "paying attention" to him.

Which brings me to my parental anorexia issue. Maybe parental dysmorphia? Parental inadequacy syndrome? I dunno'...

But I keep thinking: "Shouldn't I be loving this part?" Everyone else seems to...and there's this whole "cult of parenthood" where touchy-feely types tell us over and over to savor these moments...and talk to our kids constantly...and play with them non-stop...and revel in their every little coo and gurgle...and never get annoyed with them...and love them with every fiber of your being...et cetera.

I mean, there are times when I do do (hee hee!! POOPIE JOKE!!!!) that -- my favorite two hours of the day are the time between when I get home and Henry's bedtime, because I get to hold him, play with him, talk to him, and make him laugh as much as possible. It's a great routine; I get home around 6:45 PM, Erika makes dinner while I watch him, we eat, Henry eats, then I put him to sleep. I love it. It's my "happy place."

Of course, this is just two hours of time. It happens to be the perfect amount of "play time" before Henry starts getting "fussy."

Because the weekends...man, those are tough. I feel embarrassed to say it, but the refrain for Henry on the weekends seems to be "Well, let's see how long this lasts." If I'm home alone with the kid, I spend all of my time shuttling him between different stations (the play mat, the bouncy chair, the swing, the bumbo, outside, on the couch watching Sesame Street, etc.) to keep him entertained until his next feeding.

It's exhausting. I don't know how stay-at-home parents do it, and have done it since the dawn of man. I mean, do you just let the baby cry? All the time? I'll do that occasionally, of course...but I can't just listen to him crying his bored head off while I'm watching old episodes of "Mythbusters" or something. It feels very wrong (and probably is very wrong...which is why I can't bring myself to do it for more than a couple of minutes at a time).

Then again, I can't just hold him indefinitely either...for my sanity as well as for his. If I just held him all day, he'd cry whenever I left the room...or when I put him down for a nap...or if I had to use the restroom. I savor Henry's little moments of independence, and I feel like I should be developing that so he can soothe himself, as opposed to coddling him whenever he grunts in disapproval.

I also feel the guilt of allowing my kid to watch TV. Again, I imagine the "cult of parenthood" types would probably drop their jaws if they found out our child was watching TV daily when he was 2 months old (really for only about 20 minutes at a time...since he bored of it quickly..."See how long this will last" and all...). They'd also be shocked at how much time Henry is left alone on his play mat, while his parents "do stuff" around the house.

We're also giving Henry a pretty good amount of formula...about 50/50 with breast milk. Because, as it turns out, it's really time-consuming and physically demanding to maintain a steady pumping & feeding schedule. Of course, Henry is a very healthy baby boy...so obviously we're not doing him any harm...but it's one of those things that evokes a lot of passion in people, so again I get the feeling that I'm doing something wrong.

Finally there's the "circumcision" issue...a hot-button issue, with a lot of passion. For me, I just came to the conclusion that, "Well...I'm circumcised, so I might as well do the same for Henry." It's not like I have foreskin envy or anything...so why would he?

Then, after the fact, San Fransisco considers banning the practice. There's all kinds of talk about "genital mutilation" in the news. The practice is described as "barbaric." And now I'm rethinking the whole damn thing. Of course...it's too late to go back now...but...y'know?

So, from a highly critical point of view, we have a TV-watching, circumcised, formula-fed baby that we ignore whenever possible. We've let him sleep in his boppy, and we've used the bumbo on an elevated surface. He's been in cold weather without socks, and his bedroom can get very warm at night. He's received all of his immunizations, he uses disposable diapers, and I'm sure our house contains potentially hazardous materials somewhere.

To some, I imagine this would be considered borderline child abuse, or at the very least, "undesirable parenting practices."

So I do what every parent before me has done -- I feel guilty. I mean, Henry is happy, healthy, and well-behaved...yet I constantly feel like I'm doing something wrong.

Which is probably how every parent since the dawn of man has felt. Any responsible parent, that is...

Parenthood

I'm going to try to not talk about parenthood too much here. I mean...I think it's inevitable that I'll talk about it, because it's kinda' the "big thing" going on in my life right now. Plus, whenever I say "I'm not going to be that guy," I typically renege on my promise almost immediately (for instance, I said I wouldn't change my Facebook profile picture to my child's face...and I would up breaking that oath about 10 hours after my child was born).

But, while I have the time, I just wanted to say a few words about being a dad. Or, at least, being a new dad...because I have no idea what it's like to be a long-term dad (obviously).

Strange. My kid might read this some day. Henry, if you're reading this: Hi! I'm going to say stuff about you! How exciting!

Here goes.

Well, first off, I'm going to talk about what hasn't changed, for me.

I thought, in my weird brain, that there was going to be some kind of shift. Like, all the sudden my priorities would change, and I would start sacrificing everything for my child. His desires would fill every waking moment, and seeing him happy would be the only thing that would make me (in turn) happy.

That didn't happen. I mean, for example, video games. I thought I'd swear off video games forever, and spend all of my time doting over my child's delicious, growing brain. But, in reality, I'm pretty sure I played a few video games while we were still at the hospital, as he was sleeping in his little hospital bassinet a few feet away. And my video gaming has continued unabated since that time. I just can't get away from it, apparently, which must mean I'm not sacrificing too much time...

I also am not sacrificing my own happiness to make my kid happy...and I don't think I will do that, or could do that. I feel like that's not fair to him -- for me to put all of that pressure on him to live the successful, happy life that his dad gave up when he was born. Happy parents make happy babies. That's my theory, at least.

This is not to say that I won't sacrifice. I mean...that's kinda' inevitable, right? For instance, it'll probably be a couple of years before we're able to get back to Europe. And dates with my wife (one my favorite things) will have to be at "infant-friendly" locations for at least a couple of years. Pretty much, any time I want to do something, I can't just plan it, then do it. I'll have to consider, "Well, what about Henry?"

But that fundamental shift in thought from "me" to "only him" hasn't happened. Henry's happiness does not consume my every waking moment...like I thought it would. I mean, that might happen at some point...but I don't know. I don't think it will.

Who knows?

Anyway, so what what has changed?

Quite a bit, of course. The biggest thing is, I've never really needed to be so mindful of something so helpless before. And he is -- he's so helpless. All he can do is fuss and cry. He can't feed himself, he can't entertain himself, he can't even talk. It's mentally exhausting caring for him sometimes, and I really look forward to those moments when he falls asleep...just so I can relax.

I mean...I feel ashamed admitting that...because in my head I'm supposed to love every second he's awake, so I can play with him and grow that lovely little brain of his. But that "asleep time" is so very, very nice. Whenever he's awake, I'm stressing about how to take care of him...but when he's asleep, I just look at him and think, "Goddamn...what an awesome kid."

Of course, I mean, I love him when he's awake. For instance, last Saturday I spent a good 30 minutes, just hovering above him saying "buh buh buh buh buh buh buh" and "muh muh muh muh muh muh muh" over and over. His smile just absolutely melts my cruddy little heart, and any time he tries to speak, or any time he makes a noise that isn't crying or straining, it's just fantastic.

It's hard work, though. And, inevitably, after he's had spent 30 minutes of gibberish-talking to daddy he'll want to do something else...and if he's not entertained he starts fussing. And if he's not scheduled to eat for another 2 hours, I have to find some way to entertain him until I can bring the bottle out (or hand him off to mommy). So I try walking around with him...or laying him on his play mat...or putting him in his swinging chair...or his bouncy chair...or singing to him...

Oftentimes these things will work for about 10 minutes before it's "fussy-time" again.

So when I say that I love him the most when he's sleeping...I'm not saying that I wish he'd sleep through this first year and he'd then wake up at the end totally ready to walk, talk, and laugh (although...now that you mention it...).

Because I love lots things about him now. Awake things. I love how he's grown from this squalling little pooping and peeing flesh sack, to a little clumsy person I can interact with. I love when he falls asleep on my chest after his late-night feeding. I love how he wobbles when I stand him on his feet. I love all the strange cooing noises he's started making. I love his little goofy, dimpled smiles. I love his fat little knees, his soft feet, and his big ol' double chin. I love the smell of his hair. I love how he holds onto my fingers when I put them in his hands. I love how amazed he is at everything. I love how, when he's startled, he splays his arms out to the side. I love his little sighs and grunts. I love taking him up in my arms. I love watching his eyelids droop right before he falls asleep. I love how his head bobs gently when I hold him in the "seated" position. I love his enormous blue eyes.

I don't love how mushy that last paragraph was. Blech. Sorry Henry...hopefully you skipped forward to the next paragraph once you saw what I was doing there.

So yeah...that's parenthood for me. I do kind of wish that he were already about 3 years old or so...because it seems like this first part is just taking forever. But I'll probably look back one day and realize (like every parent does, apparently) that they just "grow up to fast."

I just hope I'm doing it right. I mean, I'm not fishing for encouragement or anything...because I sure think I'm doing it right. I just hope I'm not wrong.


My boy.

Baby Terminology

Wife and I have come up with some terminology that we use in the caring of our son. Thought you might enjoy it -- here's the list:

- Bean (proper noun): Henry Sebastian Rhoades' primary nickname. "Who's my little Bean?"

- Num nums (noun/verb): the partaking of breast milk. "You ready for num nums, buddy?"

- Back-burp (verb): the process of bringing Bean's knees up to his chest to get him to squeeze out a fart or two or fifteen. "I tried to back-burp him for a bit, but nothing came out. Maybe he's still hungry?"

- Boy stuff (noun): the cool stuff that dad and Bean do when mom needs a break -- usually involves Bean sleeping while dad watches TV. "Go ahead and take your bath. We're going to hang out on the couch and do boy stuff."

- Sneak attack (noun): when Bean pees during a diaper change. "I had to change his onesie too -- there was a sneak attack while I was putting stuff on his diaper rash."

- Burples (noun/verb): both the act of burping the Bean, as well as the resulting burp. "You need burples, Bud?"

- Squirkles (noun): nickname given to Bean when he's not quite asleep, and not quite awake. The nickname reflects the weird noises he makes at that time. "What's up, Squirkles? You going to stay awake for num nums?"

- Bean-o-potamus (noun): nickname given to Bean when there's no rush, he's not crying, and his parents are in good spirits. "Would you mind holding Bean-o-potamus while I go get dinner ready?"

- Beanamus Maximus (noun): nickname given to Bean when he's in a seated position -- often shortened to Beanamus. "All right Beanamus Maximus, it's time to take you for a walk."

- Gurgles (noun): nickname given to Bean just after he's just finished eating, before being burped. "Was those some good num nums, Gurgles?"

- Goebbles (noun): variation of the nickname Gurgles -- used when Bean expresses some form of anti-Semitic behavior. "Hey Goebbles, stop writing your manifesto and go to sleep."

- Bud (noun): nickname given to Bean when asking him a question. "Hey Bud -- you crap your pants again?"

- Punchy (adjective): word used to describe Bean's cheeks, which are lovely, angelic and round. "Lookin' punchy today, Beanamus."

- Gunk (noun): the yellow crap that collects in the corner of Bean's eyes. "I'm going to wet a cotton ball to clean up the gunk."

- Fussing (verb): what Bean does when he's not sleeping -- normally involves grunts, flailing, and (occasionally) crying. "I put him in his crib at ten, but he was fussing, so I got him out and fed him again."

- Binky (noun): the one pacifier that Bean likes, with the white shield -- if we ever misplaced it, we'd be lost, "Maybe try his binky, see if he falls back asleep?"

- Boppy (noun): the u-shaped pillow that is used during num nums, as well as any time Bean is uncomfortable just lying flat on his back. "Can you hand me the boppy? I'm going to feed him again."

- Diapy (noun): diaper. Pronounced: die-pee. "Hey Bud, you need a new diapy?"