My Little Girl is Sick

When I put Peanut to bed last night she was sad. She had the sniffles. Her stuffed up nose was making it hard for her to breathe. She spent the whole night tossing and turning.

I suppose this was inevitable. Buddy, my youngest son, has been ill and was home sick from school Monday. Of course he was going to spread his awful contagion to the rest of us. I just hoped Peanut would be magically immune.

This morning, after a terrible nights sleep, she woke up boiling like a furnace working overtime (Really she’s just 100° F.). She was coughing and sneezing. Her sniffles produced this horrible goo running down her lips.

I fell terrible for her. All she wants to do is sit with her daddy. Oh, and she wants me to play with her toys. She is actually in good spirits. She ate, had her formula, and is sleeping restfully right now.

Babies get sick. I do understand this. We had a wonderful run of luck though. She hadn’t been sick yet. Both of my sons had been sick by six months. Peanut made it to eight months.

She’s in for a long run of nasty bugs. My boys both went through it as they grew into and through toddlerhood . As she is exposed to other children they pass on their nasty little germs. When she starts school the flu will run through her class.

She and my boys are lucky. They won’t get chicken pox. The vaccine has kept both of my sons from getting it. I assume it will be as effective with her. When I was little we all got it. A select few kids slipped through to adulthood without getting it. They face a precarious situation if they do contract it.

I got it in third grade. At first it seemed great. You get to stay home from school for at least three days. In actuality it was distinctly unpleasant. It was several long days of feeling itchy, itching, and getting scolded for itching.

I would have preferred she not get sick though. Its miserable enough to sick when your fully grown and understand what is wrong. When your little you have no idea what is wrong. All you know is that you don’t feel well.

Peanut certainly doesn’t feel well. I’m not worried. She’ll be better and up to mischief again in no time.

Peanut's Annoying New Habit

Peanut has learned a new trick. It is annoying to say the least. At the same time it is adorable and ridiculous. I first noticed it about a week ago. Not being sure if it was intentional I waited to see if she would repeat it.

As you know I put her down to play with her toys while I work on the computer and do chores. While she will play for a bit by herself she prefers that someone play with her.

So the other day I put her down to play and sat down to type up some work. Peanut decided that she did not want to play by herself. She snorted at me. It was a snort. She made the noise through her nose not her mouth. The sound was very much like one a toddler makes when it wants attention. After all most toddlers act out instead of saying something like, "Yo, pay attention to me."

I was not sure what to make of it. I looked at her and she smiled at me so I resumed my typing. Unhappy with the result she did it again. Taking the hint we played. Then she ate and had a nap.

The next day, under similar circumstances, she did it again. I decides to test whether this was intentional. After looking at her she smiled and I went back to work. Peanut snorted again, several times. I looked at her, she smiled, I went back to work.

She was extremely dissatisfied with this result and proceeded to snort a half dozen times loudly and vigorously. So we played and my work got done while she was napping.

Oddly enough, having learned the value of this technique, she turned it on her mother later that day. Her mother was home from work and enjoying a snack while resting on the couch. Peanut who believes she can and should eat everything the rest of us do decided she wanted to share the snack. So looking at mommy she began snorting away to get attention.

Mommy, who was not aware of this new habit, looked at Peanut shocked and started laughing. It really is adorable after all. But this was not the desired response and was greeted with more snorting until she was picked up. No sharing though I'm afraid.

Since then baby has done this at least once a day when circumstances are not to her liking.

I have tried repeatedly to get a picture of her doing this. However, since her desired result is attention, when you focus on her she smiles. I think she is intentionally thwarting me.

While it is cute it is also terribly annoying. Imagine sitting there trying to type something only to be assaulted by a cavalcade of snorts from your attention hungry baby. It not as if I ignore her. In fact I most certainly do not. But when she sits with me at the computer she insists on banging her little fists on the keyboard. It is great she wants to share stories with the world. Just not in the middle of a file I'm working on.

Next time I'll share with you her other annoying new habit. This one is even worse but it gets her sap of a Daddy to do what she wants.

Boppy: Every Baby Needs One

Boppy: Every Baby Needs One

My wife recently informed me that Peanut had to have a Boppy. I mean absolutely unequivocally had to have a Boppy right now. My obvious response was, “I’m watching TV.” After being glared at my second reply was, “What’s a Boppy?” Really, that’s a pretty goofy name. She went on to inform me over the next twenty minutes all about Boppys, thus ruining my show and giving me a headache.

It turns out that Boppys are horseshoe shaped pillows with removable covers (called slipcovers). You have the option of buying the Bare Naked (sic, visit their website) Pillow version. Or you can buy a pillow w/slipcase set. Either way you can then proceed to purchase alternate pattern slipcovers.

Upon learning this I was dumbfounded. I thought to myself, “My God this could cost a fortune.” There were images in my head of my wife coming home with bags literally stuffed with pretty slipcases for every occasion. The covers are reasonably priced, but ten of anything quickly sends reason to the chopping block.

I thought if I just said no that would be the end of this (as if I have any authority). I quickly put that nonsense out of my head and decided I ought to be paying attention. We agreed that she could buy one preferably the set (since that is usually the better deal as it is in this case). If however, they had a slipcover she really liked she could buy them separately.

This is my third baby and I think I’ve gotten used to the weird stuff women buy or babies. Some pretty crazy things have come home in the last ten years. For thirty bucks my wife would be happy and we’d have another thingamajig gathering dust in the corner, or on a shelf taking up much needed space. Whatever, she would be happy. Boy was I wrong. Peanut’s Boppy is fantastic.

The basic purpose of a Boppy is to allow baby to be propped up instead of lying on her back. Babies love this. Peanut really loves this function. We’ve had our pillow over a month now. Everyday I settle her into her Boppy to play with her hanging play sets. The elevation allows her to more easily reach the baubles hanging from the playset’s frame. Despite being unable to sit up herself she can now, while elevated, comfortably reach, hold, and pull on her toys. It has made the play sets a much more enjoyable experience for her.

Another function they push at you is to put your baby on her tummy on the pillow. She can roll over by herself now but lacks the strength and coordination to crawl. When on her tummy on the pillow the heightened level of sight is great. She loves looking around, especially at the dog when it strolls by.

She also likes to use her feet to push her head over the top of the pillow and view the world upside down. She doesn’t seem to hurt her neck. I cannot fathom why she enjoys looking at things upside down though.

Another use is to put it on your lap, put baby and top of it, and feed her. I’ve noticed that after she eats and burps if I rest her on the pillow she tends to spit up less (advertised right on the packaging and surprisingly true). You can also use it to rest your laptop on (not a recommended use and don’t let your wife catch you).

Once your baby can sit up, which mine can’t, the Boppy acts as a buffer to both help them stay up and provide a softer landing when they topple over.

We also use it to play peek-a-boo. Put your baby on her back with her head in the center of the pillow. Get down on the floor and peek up over the top at her and go, “Boo.” Repeat. Some days this drives her wild. Other days she looks at me as if I’m insane. Be warned, your other kids will snicker at you if they catch you doing this.

If your girlfriend, wife, sister, etc. is going to have a baby get them one of these. Next time your wife has to go to a baby shower check the registry, if there is one. If there is a Boppy on it get it. If there isn’t a Boppy on the list get one anyway, and a smaller selection from the approved list, assuming your not strapped for cash. This gift will go over really well.

Make sure she brings the receipt. If someone else gives the soon-to-be mother a Boppy tell your wife to have her return it and get some extra slipcovers. This will meet with universal agreement. Your wife may not admit it was you who suggested the idea at the party but I guarantee she’ll thank you in her own way.

Bath Time Fun

Bath Time Fun

Bath time provides an excellent opportunity to clean your baby, spend some time with her, and give her a chance at some all around good fun. I love bath time.

Most little ones seem to enjoy it. My kids did. My youngest son absolutely loves it. We have a bucket with cheaply made plastic army men, policemen, firemen, and assorted vehicles. He takes them into the tub with him. When he was smaller he had duckies and other goofy looking bath toys acquired from a half dozen stores and shops.

We fill the tub up and add one of a dozen choices of bubble bath. For a time he could not resist a new bottle of bubble bath mix. If he saw a bottle on the shelf that he did not recognize I was informed that we needed it. At one point we had a dozen and a half partially full bottles. My older son likes bubble baths to, so the stuff all got used up eventually.

So when Peanut came home from the hospital I had images in my head of bath time fun and how great it would be. She would splash around. She would play with bubbles. Her love for daddy would grow ten-fold overnight.

But you can’t dunk newborns in the tub, or the sink, or even their own special baby bath. I dutifully waited for her cord to fall off. She got scrubbed with damp soft hand towels. I used lightly soapy slightly warm water.

The soap and shampoo were both tear free. Neither was tested on animals. Little girls don’t like people torturing bunnies after all. I assume. Actually I’m not sure but its not worth the risk of her hating me for washing her with a product that hurt furry little critters

Anyway I waited and scrubbed her with towels and waited some more. Finally it was time for her bath. We had gotten a baby bath at a consignment store for seven bucks. I bought this when my wife was still pregnant.

I don’t think she was pleased that I had purchased a used, beat up, and clearly discount version of a tub for her precious little angel. It seemed like a bargain. Bargains have gotten me into trouble before.

She had bought a really nice one for our first son. It cost over thirty dollars ten years ago. It was quite nice, really sturdy. The thing didn’t drain though. It had a drain hole with a plug to close it. But when you opened the plug to drain it the thing didn’t work right. I hated giving the boy a bath in it. He quickly outgrew it.

Somehow it got placed in the garage in a space away from the other baby stuff. So when my wife gave her baby stuff to a friend who was pregnant the bath didn’t go away. We didn’t need to buy one when she got pregnant again. I think she would have preferred to buy a new bath but my arguments won out. This was one of those fights where by winning you actually lose though.

I had baby’s tub ready. (I feel bad now, three months later. I really should have bought her a pretty frilly tub instead of a beat up old one.) We were ready. The tub was full of warn, not hot, water. Very comfortable really. I had her soaps ready. I got her ready and we went over to the sink. I put her in, remember ten-fold love, and.... She started bawling.

She was screaming. There were these sad little tears running down her cheeks. She was looking at me like I was a monster who eats babies for lunch. I was absolutely horrified. This had gone all wrong. A magical moment had turned into a nightmare.

She got her bath. Afterwards we had a bottle and she calmed down. Not sure what to do the best course seemed to be I decided to pretend it never happened. (My wife will find herself learning of this about the same time you do.)

The next day I almost didn’t give her a bath I was so concerned over what might happen. But I did, and man was that the right decision. She did a complete 360 in twenty four hours. She went in the tub without any complaints. She sat there in the water. She was watching the water come out of the faucet while I was washing her hair. I moved it over towards her and she put her little hand under the water and just held it there letting water flow over her arm. This was much closer to the reaction I had expected the day before.

We have had a bath everyday since then. Usually in the late afternoon when she winding down from the day. Over the following weeks she really took to her baths like a duck to water. Now she tries to drink the water when I wash her hair and face. Every bath we have a portion of time devoted to drinking water.

After she gets washed I put some soap under the running water and she gets a bunch of bubbles. She loves to watch them. Sometimes she’ll dunk her hand in them and pick some up. Then she proceeds to shake her hand wildly sending suds all over. This gets a giggle out of her every time. If I’m not careful Peanut will try to put her suds filled hand in her mouth. I guess they look yummy. But non-toxic doesn’t mean it tastes good.

Just last week she decided to kick at the water. Just because she is little doesn’t mean she can’t make a big splash. I got soaked. She thought it was hilarious. Now she kicks at the water every time.

In the long run I was right about the bonding and ever-growing love. It just didn’t work out immediately like I thought it would. We have fun together. Most importantly we have managed to make a mundane daily chore into an exciting adventure.

Baby's First Meal

Baby’s First Meal

It was time for baby’s first meal. This was very exciting for me. I wasn’t the one who fed either of my boys their first meal. My wife was. I don’t even think I was home when it happened. I was sure going to be here when my little girl had her first meal.

I know how that sounds, she four months old and I’m just now getting around to feeding her for the first time! What kind of monster am I? No. No. No. She’s been sucking back milk like a piglet for months.

Today however would be different. I was very excited but I’d also been putting it off. You can start feeding babies food (baby food of course not fried chicken) as young as four months. We have been having cereal though it isn’t much fun. At six months you can feed them fruit and vegetable puree. Its real food not watered down white slop


Recently she has been licking her chops every time she sees me eat. The other day we were in a sandwich place. Nothing fancy, they sell sandwiches and smoothies and what not. We sat down after ordering. When the sandwiches came I pulled out a cucumber slice to chomp on. Baby started licking her chops. It looks like she is pantomiming eating. Her lips go up and down a lot and she drools.

When I didn’t give her the cucumber slice she absolutely flipped out. I mean she started screaming like a maniac. So I took her to the car. (I wasn’t going to keep her in the shop. I always hate it when parents let there children cry loudly inside stores and restaurants. It’s great they have a parenting method that involves their baby ruining other people’s shopping but come on take the brat outside. You don’t need to ruin my lunch.)

I fed her a bottle. She stopped crying long enough to drink it. Afterwards she presumed to begin screaming and crying again. I swear she was still mad I didn’t give her the darn cucumber slice.


Another time a few days later I was making pasta for dinner. (Yeah I make it. If my wife does it the stuff turns to mush. Just like when she makes risotto it is always soggy. Don’t know why. It just is. Like the time she made bacon. She said it took me to long to make it my way so she would do it. What she served looked and tasted more like charcoal than bacon. She’s never asked to make bacon since.)


So anyway, I made dinner and set baby down to play while we ate. She flipped out. So I brought her to the kitchen and she sat in my lap while we ate dinner. She was licking her chops and chomping away on invisible food the whole time.


I had another similar experience before it occurred to me that she was ready to eat real food. Yeah, I’m kind of dense sometimes. So I checked out our copy of What to Expect When Your Expecting. It doesn’t say much about baby’s first year mostly because the authors want you to buy What to Expect the Fist Year. That book ends abruptly so that you need to buy a copy of What to expect the Toddler Years. The authors should wonder what to expect if they meet me since I’m irate at how much money they conned my wife out of.

We received a copy of each of them when she got pregnant the first time. When my son was three I was cleaning to make space. I saw these books and figured, “Hey, he’s three we don’t need these.” So I tossed them. A year later she was pregnant again. We dutifully expended the money to pick up a set of them again. About a year and a half ago I was cleaning again. (I should have put it off a couple weeks like I put everything else off.) I came across the books and said to myself, “Nah won’t happen” and tossed them. And about two weeks later she gave me the blessed news. So you can imagine what I did. These books ain’t going anywhere.


It was time to feed baby. I had learned the hard way about vegetables and carrots. The eldest son had mashed nannas for his first meal. He absolutely loved them. He wouldn’t eat anything else. Well that is not quite true. He liked apples, and pears, and sweet potatoes. Green beans. Nope. Those came right out. So with my second son she started him on vegetables. He didn’t care. If you put it in front of him he’d eat it. He’s was like a little garbage disposal.


I got her ready by putting her in her swing. She fits it better than she does her high chair. It is a little to big for her. We were going to have peas. It is a mashed green slurry that tastes more or less like smashed peas. (Yeah, I tried it. I wanted to know whether her slop was any good. It wasn’t.)




She was surprisingly cooperative for her first meal. Anyway she gobbled this slop down. She even grabbed my hand to pull the spoon into her mouth faster, and to far, causing her to cough and sputter. The second time she did this she didn’t choke herself. It was quite amusing.


After some spoonfuls of goop she had managed to make quite a mess of her face, and I made a mess of her head. We had a blast.
I can say it ended up in her hair. But that was my fault not hers.





Afterwards, she drank her bottle and took a bath. We played for a little bit. Then I put her down for her nap. It was all sort of anticlimactic but I’m still happy to have been a part of it.

Reflections on Fatherhood

Welcome. Thanks for coming by.

I took the picture in the heading about three years ago. We were spending a week in Ventura, Ca, visiting relatives. We were coming back after a morning’s walk along the beach. I’m walking behind my wife and youngest son. Buddy had collected every little shell and rock and piece of driftwood he could find. You can’t see it, because I’m holding the bucket, but it is overflowing with the ocean’s detritus. Buddy is getting tired from the walk and excitement. In a few minutes he’ll settle on my shoulders for the remainder of the trip. I thought it was an intimate moment so I pulled out my phone and took a picture. I especially like the footprints in the sand. My eldest son was sleeping late so he did not join us. In my heart he has a place on the left. When I look at the image I can see him, footprints and all.

Now a few short years later we have a new visitor. While watching her sleeping I wonder where she fits into the picture. Where would her footprints be? I do not have an answer. Yet.

After ten years of being a father I’m still not sure I understand what it means. Sure I’ve changed more diapers than I can count, and I can count pretty high. I took college algebra twice after all.

I’ve seen all three of my children get vaccines. None of them took it stoically. I can say that none of them screamed as loudly as some of the children in the doctor’s offices on our visits.

I’ve washed lots of clothes that have been spit up on, thrown up on, peed on, spilled on, and even sadly, a couple of times, bled on. My children aren’t nearly as accident prone as I was when young, and still am. It brings a great smile to everyone’s face when I walk into walls, doors, or tables as I routinely do.

I once stabbed myself with a fork while making dinner. My wife thought it was hilarious. The humor was lost on me. I must have had a dozen sets of stitches by the time I was ten (no, no one beat me I simply have two left feet).

There is a certain sense of terror at seeing blood coming from one of your children. That I get hurt all the time does nothing to limit the irrational belief that my children should never ever get hurt.

More mundanely I have seen my son drop a Popsicle on the floor and proceed to bawl as if the earth was ending. You want to comfort children who are so aggrieved. Yet it was mixed with an uncontrollable humor at the hyperbole of the situation. Laughing at your little ones when they are emotionally vulnerable is about as good a decision as vocally noticing your pregnant wife has put on weight (Duh, she’s pregnant, but keep your mouth shut stupid). I’ve done both.

Fatherhood is more than a collection of manly attitudes and stern behaviors that are supposed to mold your children into responsible adults. Though what the other ones are exactly eludes me. There are differences facing me today than those that faced my father when I was little. His father’s world seems totally alien to me.

My phone is an excellent example. Camera phones didn’t exist. I can remember ads for luxury cars that emphasized the perk of a phone in your car. There was even in kid in the class whose dad had a car with a phone. He loved to yap on it when he picked his son up. The world needed to know he had a car phone after all. Then cell phones came along. These things were the size of bricks and looked ridiculous. Yet here we are twenty years later and I can pull my phone out of my pocket and take pictures. It takes better pictures than my first camera.

My father simply could not do this. He would have needed a camera and he would have been conspicuous. No one even knew I took the picture. I had it on my phone for weeks until I showed anyone. It was a special moment reserved solely to me. There are days I regret ever sharing it.

My years of parenting are full of joy and world changing experiences. But there have been moments of mind numbing drudgery. I don’t particularly care for the game Candyland. Yet I have played it hundreds of times with two children and soon I will play it another hundred times with baby. To a little person the game is magical. You literally journey through a land of candy to the candy castle where the fat candy kings eats candy. One orange square. Two blue squares. Ice cream! It makes me want to scream.

So when asked, I play and smile. I do so for the light in my loved ones eyes. They magically escape, for a few minutes, to a world where everything is good and happy. Here, despite all my shortcomings as a father they are happy with me. I feel loved. I feel like I have value. Everything might turn out okay after all. All I have to do is make it to candy castle.

The only thing greater than Candyland the game is Candyland the Real-Life-Day, otherwise known as Halloween. Both my sons went trick-or-treating when they were two. Mommy was there, camera ready. Daddy was dutifully pushing the banana stroller acting as both chauffer (and engine for the stroller) and guardian to keep away the real life bogeymen we hear about on the ten o’clock news after the adventure is over.

But at two they were not really aware, and assertive enough, to experience the holiday. By three children are much more cognizant. They picked their costumes, they butchered pumpkins, and they picked out plastic pumpkins at Wal-Mart to store their loot in.

This is their game come to life. They are wearing costumes, think gingerbread men moving along the game-board. You don’t think they see colored gingerbread men when they play do you? They go from house to house getting treats. Think the special tokens on the board and the excitement at finding that you get the card on your turn.
My youngest son was thrilled to pick the tokens, even if it meant moving backward. Because he got the lollypop, him not me. After a game he would look through the cards and find the ones that hadn’t been drawn. He wanted to know how close he was to having picked one if the game had not ended.

On Halloween they live the magical adventure. You go up to somebody’s door rap on it and they give you candy. Some of the adults are even dressed up themselves. My oldest son, who was three when Halloween rolled around one year, had the best time. He went to the door, timidly and with daddy at his side, got his candy and walked down to the curb.
After every house we had to stop and look in the bag and try to locate the new addition to his ever growing sack of cavities. You could tell by his face whether he thought he had received a good piece of candy, an extra generous amount, or whether the adults had been less that forthcoming. It was a very interesting night.

My second son had a similar experience when he was three. It was exciting and filled with a sense of wonderment. Except, he had a plan. He wanted to fill his sack. We didn’t stop to investigate after each house. He simply kept going. Or I did since I was the chauffeur again. After each door he got back in his stroller and said, “Daddy, next house.” I dutifully obliged. His brother and mother followed at their own pace. After about a half an hour he simply stated, “Done.” “Go home.”

So he and I went back to my father’s house (we go there every year and have dinner before trick-or-treating in his neighborhood. Some of the adults giving my sons candy were the same ones who gave me candy twenty years ago.

Once back we spent the next half hour sorting and organizing his goodies. By the time we were done his mother and brother had shown up. I should have been paying attention because my little buddy was working on his next plan.

At our house after Halloween you can have one piece of candy from your bag after school and one more after dinner. For my oldest son this is plenty since like his mother he is not fond of sweets. My little buddy, however, is like me and has a terrible sweet tooth.

So anyway, my buddy had another plan. One day shortly after, I’m still unsure when exactly, a bunch of candy disappeared from his bag. I didn’t even notice. I’m really not a bad man. We all miss things, once in a while.

I found out by chance three weeks after Halloween when I caught the dog licking a candy wrapper. Thinking she had gotten into the bags I went to investigate. After much perplexed searching I found a cache of empty candy wrappers hidden under the end table next to the TV. Many, ok almost all, of them were empty. There must have been about a dozen. They were all chocolate bars, the small and mini versions so commonly given out including Butterfingers, Snickers, and so on.

What was so bizarre about the whole thing is that on Halloween at my father’s he had sorted the candy into groups one of which was the chocolate bar group. The empty wrappers got tossed on the floor behind the table but there were a couple pieces of candy still uneaten in the bag.

I asked him why he did this. He responded so that he could have some candy. The unsaid statement being that he wanted to be able to have a piece of candy when he wanted it not when Daddy said he could have it. I asked him when and he either wouldn’t or more likely couldn’t tell me due to his limited understanding of the flow of days into weeks. I asked him where I was when he did this and he said I was in the bathroom reading the newspaper.

He’s clever and sneaky. Hopefully his innate traits can be channeled into something good and productive. I hate to think he’s gearing up for a life of fleecing people.

Several years since then I now have three children. The newest addition is a girl. I have hopes and dreams for her. I also have concerns, some are the same for all three, and some obviously apply to just her. But I’m still not sure what any of it means.

I go in to get her when she wakes up from her nap and she gives me the biggest smile. It fills me with a sense of love and of being needed.

Now as I watch my little one grow through the most remarkable development of her life I feel the desire to share my experiences and hear the stories of others. The growth from newborn to toddler over the first three years of life is utterly remarkable. Babies learn to crawl, walk, talk, interact with other children, and interact with adults. By five they are learning to read, count, and think.

Feel free to share you stories in the post. If you have a family blog or site e-mail me a leave a link. I’ll check it out. Good health to you and yours.