Learning to Crawl

Evangeline in Nana's hot tub in South Florida. She's a big fan of the floaty.

I've written little since the baby was born and it's because I've been completely enthralled with life as a new dad. I'd assumed that I would have much more time in my life as a Ph.D. student and dad than I've had. I planned for time consuming and useless activities that never came to be. Perfect example: making a music video with Evangeline called "I Just Had A Baby" to the tune of "I Just Had Sex." Still an entertaining idea, but no time for it.

Evangeline doing a lazy Supergirl. Usually she
pushes her legs and arms out.

Shortly after Evangeline was born, Mimi and I met with the local Parents As Teachers consultant. The Parents As Teachers program provides resources and information on the development of your children to new parents. When I had a chance, I let her know that she was almost never in front of television (except for short periods with Mimi and I) and that we were reading together every night. In a very kind way, she let me know that my work was all well and good, but she wasn't likely learning anything at this point. She said rather that Evangeline was instead learning to associate books with the intimacy of being near Mom and Dad (which can create a lifelong love of reading--my ultimate goal). When asked what more I could be doing, she told me the most important thing I could do at this point was to learn to crawl. It's difficult for a planner and checklist writer like myself to get my mind around the value in just laying on the ground, talking to Evangeline in baby coos and just staring at her.

Here's what I've learned about fatherhood thus far:

(1) It's not hard to be considered an "involved dad"-- To a completely pathetic extent, the bar is low. Nurses, Pediatricians, the Parents As Teachers consultant have all remarked to Mimi how nice it was to see an "involved" dad. When I've asked for elaboration, they basically say that an involved dad means being around. In my experience, there's definitely something sexist about this as "involved moms" are just...well...moms.

(2) Diaper changing tables in men's rooms are a rare blessing-- I don't know why. Mimi and I will both go some place. I'll change Evangeline in the men's room and compare notes with Mimi. It's not uncommon that I'll be using our pad on the floor of the men's room while there's a changing table in the ladies room. And when there is a changing table, they like to block stalls and urinals with the changing table. Which gets awkward.

Weirdest diaper change? I was in a gas station off the interstate and changing Evangeline on a rare changing table (which was blocking the sole urinal). I began cooing to Evangeline: "Who's your daddy? Who's your daddy?" I wonder what the guys in the stalls thought.

Evangeline with her grandnana

(3) Don't try Supergirl and have your mouth open-- Evangeline likes to be lifted above my head. She also likes to spit up when lifted above my head. I'll just say I only made this mistake once.

(4) Dads are okay but Moms are magic-- I can do everything for Evangeline (almost)--diaper changes, baths, bounces, Supergirls, read aloud to her. But sometimes, the only things she needs is to be near Momma. I guess it's fair. Their bodies were connected and everything.

(5) Babies make people smile-- especially true in Florida, where America comes to die. If you bring a baby anywhere, it's like Children of Men. People stare. People stop eating. They point. Their brows furrow. Is that what I think it is?

"I'll know what a kiss is once you hand one to me"

As Mimi and I have been spending our days slaving over the house, preparing it from top to bottom to be beautiful enough for our daughter's discerning eye. We've painted most of the rooms we want to paint and hung pictures and art throughout the house. The boxes have largely disappeared but for holdouts in the guest room and in a yard sale pile.

While we've spent our days on the house, we've spent our evenings with Peter Pan. I'd never read the book myself although like a common millennial I can claim to have watched every Peter Pan movie. We've been reading it aloud to each other. Hearing the story has reminded us of our childhood and how very much like children we still are (and all adults are). While it's been a fun read for us, I think we've both been brushing up on our skills at reading aloud in expectation of doing for a baby very soon.

Last night we read chapter three. As the future father of a daughter, I gathered the morale of the story very quickly. "This is what happens when you let a boy on your bed. Soon you're jumping out the window." I'm glad I'll be able to give our daughter the lede of the story out front. (I also challenge the very gendered statement by Peter than "a girl is worth twenty boys." It seems to assume the men cannot sew, operate with reason, or keeping from jumping out windows. Which is true in my case, but that's not the point.)

I'm looking forward to reading the book to her one day and laughing with her the way Mimi and I laugh reading it. I look forward to explaining the beautiful world we live in and introducing her to all the things I've learned to love.

Until then, here are some pictures from the room. 

Here's the bed in the baby's room (not the final bedspread). Mimi made the curtains herself.
As you can see she already has a sizable number of stuffed animals.

The pack and play. How I remember this from when our friends with a young baby lived with us for a few weeks.
This is a magical device. Mimi had to explain the "Toy Bar" to me though.
I had to ask if that was where the toys went to drink after a long day of being squeaked and chewed on.

A Letter to My Daughter

To my daughter,



You're not born yet, but you are very real to your mother and I. We just left Washington DC and all the people we love to bet on a better future for you in Missouri. It's a long drive from Washington DC to Missouri. And U-Hauls don't have very good radios.

So I've been thinking about you a lot. This letter is for you on that day when you have nothing better to do that scour your decaying parent’s files. I hope you'll keep this just between the two of us and the global community.

Even though you're not here yet, I love you already. I would like to let you know how much I love you. If you don't know from how much I love you from when I tell you so (and I'll tell you everyday), I want to let you know the many ways I'll be showing my love to you:

1. When I read to you- Its not just because I like reading and I want you to too. People who read for fun are more successful. In any field. It's statistical fact.  The great thing about reading is you may just learn something. Even about yourself.



2. When I go to your ballet recital/aerobics competition/cheer-leading competition- Believe it or not, I don't go to these things for fun. No, right now, in July 2011, your mother and I don't say "hey let's do something fun--like go to a ballet recital for pre-Kers!" But I will go and more than that, I will enjoy it because I will be there for you. It really is more fun to do things for and with other people than to just to look out for yourself.


3. When a boy breaks your heart for the first time and you cry while I calmly explain that all men are assholes- I’ll tell you that you are too good for them and it’ll be true. I can guarantee it.

4. When I don't let you watch the movie with the guy in the mask, chainsaws and gratuitous violence- Sleep is important stuff. Get some, you'll see what I mean. Also, there's no shortage of horrors in our own world. Read the newspaper instead, I promise it's scarier, but you'll be able to sleep at night.

5. When I tell you to listen to your mother- the thing you need to know about your mother is that she is almost always right. And when she's not right, she closer to being right than you want to think. She has taught me so much and I've only had a little over seven years of her in my life (there was a lot that needed to be taught. See #3). You've got her forever! Learn from her. You'll be better for it.


6. When I explain to you that reading the entertainment section of the newspaper first is like having dessert for breakfast- No, no, no. You start with the front page, follow any jumps you like and then hit the editorial pages. But don’t spend too much time there. The writers in editorial get more insipid by the day. You have to work up to the reward of the entertainment section.

7. When I explain to you that if you find yourself voting for a single party down the line, you’re probably not reading enough- Or if you’re reading enough, you’re not reading enough from different people. Or you’re not thinking about what you’re reading. Our world is increasingly complex and odds are it’ll be more complex by the time you’re old enough to read this. Make it your goal to listen and understand people who are very different from you.

8. When I tell you to go put more clothes on- your mother will be able to explain this better than I can but the gist is that there are girls who make themselves look good by wearing less fabric and girls who make themselves look good by wearing more fabric. Wear more fabric. People will accuse you of class. Also, you’ll end up running into less of the creepy guys without checking accounts who want give you a ride on their motorcycle (more on this when you’re older).

9. When I don’t throw you out a window after you’ve left all your girly stuff everywhere- yeah, I know what’s coming. Makeup powder all over my bathroom sink, nail polish bottles on the living room coffee table, sparkle eye shadow on the bathroom floor (a fortuitous location if my heels wanted to sparkle). I suspect this because of the phenomenon I like to call “Mimi-sprawl” –when you’re mother makes a home somewhere it slowly begins to ebb out, taking over everything in it’s path like a German blitzkrieg. By the way, it’s rude to leave your stuff out. But you’ll see me show extraordinary patience.

10. When I make you come to Church with us, even though you’d rather sleep in and listen to music produced by a teenage guy with a too-perfect skin and lyrics about how no girls like him- I think being part of a community of faith is important--even if you take the religious part out. There are not a whole lot of atheist or generically “spiritual” groups who donate a lot of money when disasters strike.

11. When I make you be nice to family even though you want to throttle them- You don’t always have to like your family, but you do have to love them. The main problem with family is they know who you really are. That can be as unbearable as you make it.

12. When I don’t laugh in your face when you try to change your name in middle school- it won’t work. People will continue to call you by your real name. But that will be when you’re trying to assert your own identity. What you’ll later discover is that your entire life before middle school was a pretty big part of your identity.

13. When I don’t let you litter even though the cool girls at school do it- those cool girls are actually tools, but I’ll explain that to you at the time. We don’t have other planets to use. I’ve done my part to take care of this one, so you should to.

14. When I don’t give you want you want- The great thing about not getting our every want is that it helps us focus on what we really need. And whoever said it was good to get what we want?

15. When I insert your name into lyrics of timeless songs, ruining them for you forever- I already do this for Mimi and even for the dog. Sometimes I narrate their lives in the songs. You’ll think it’s ridiculous for at least part of your life (perhaps most). We only live once. Might as well sing while we’re here.

16. When I inform you that Superman is the greatest of all superheroes. It's true and here's why. Every other superhero has to put on a costume to become super. But Clark Kent IS the costume. He takes off his costume to become Superman. It really is what's on the inside that matters most.

17. When I tell you to reward yourself everyday- Now don't go crazy on this one, but you know what I mean. You see a bowl of M&Ms and know it’s not exactly the world’s most nutritious snack, but eat one or two anyway. It’s Thursday, the week is dragging, you’ve had your cup of coffee but are still on fumes—let yourself have a second cup. It’s a busy day and you’re racing across town—let yourself slow down enough to admire the flowers, the trees, the world around you.

I can’t wait to meet you! You can’t know how much I anticipate the day when I get to look in your eyes, rub your nose and bounce you on my knee! I never knew it was possible to love someone you’ve never met, but I love you even with you as a blank slate preparing to enter this world. There’s so much I want to show you!

Your dad,

G

Died and Gone to Heaven

A lot has fallen into place in the stressful month (or two) since I've posted on this site. Mimi and I purchased our first house. Woot. I've been offered the opportunity to teach my first semester at Mizzou which is actually a bit rare. I won a student paper award through AEJMC in St. Louis (it comes complete with a plaque!) where I will be presenting in August. Mimi has found a new doctor. We've spotted a couple of ways we could quickly get involved in the community and get to know the people there.

That said, I'm not sure I can completely wrap my head around the stress I feel right now. I'm moving next weekend before returning to DC to finish out at my job. The AEJMC conference is the second week of August. Orientation for Mizzou is the third week of August. And I have a baby due in October. It's a bit overwhelming. We've got to fit house painting, Lamaze classes and CPR training in there.

I've been doing a lot of running. About 24 to 28 miles a week.

People have asked me a lot about what this transition is like.

Basically, I'm going to place I've never been. To program I've never visited. To live in a house I've never seen. In part to prepare home for a child I've never met.

It's kind of like the afterlife. Good friends have told me that Missouri has a great program--the program is truly the stuff of legends. People I trust have told me Columbia's a fun town with very nice people (emphasis on "very"--I'm not sure I'll know what to do after living in DC and Florida). Family has told me that have a child will be the greatest responsibility I'll ever had, make me busier than I've ever been and happier than I could ever imagine.

Am I moving or dying to go to Heaven?

It's a....

Well we've been guessing for awhile about our baby's gender. At first, Mimi thought it was a boy because the baby was sitting low in her belly. Then we thought it was a girl because Mimi kept getting kicked and it was keeping her awake. As Mimi put it "only a girl would be this mean." Then we looked at the heartbeat (lower=boy while higher=girl). Ours was "medium low." So we thought it was a boy.

Unless I'm blind and unless the sonographer was hiding something...Baby P is a little girl.

Luckily, in my life I've been surrounded by women so I know the basics. I know all the Disney princesses and I know to keep Kleenex handy. I'm going to try to talk her out of being thirteen. I would actually just prefer her to go from twelve to...maybe twenty. Just skip that messy stuff in the middle that I won't understand.

Mimi and I do have a name picked out. In fact we even have backup names also in case the baby comes out and the name just doesn't feel right. We won't be sharing them because of my own sinful nature. In the past, people have told me names they were considering and I've felt very free about telling them which name I thought was awful. And inevitably that's the name they pick. Awkward. I will save my friends from this by taking this off the table.

Fatherhood Fears

I've been very conscious recently of my lifestyle. I'm staying up late playing video games. Heavy Rain, Mass Effect 2 and Castlevania--they all have blood, people screaming and sexual content. Oh, and they rock.

I want to go out to eat all the time (and many times want to eat junk food--as defined by taco salads and hamburgers).

I'm reading less non-fiction. I'm mainly avoiding things that have to do with reality. It's not just reading--I don't really want to pay bills, go to work, do much around the house. Adult things.

I don't really talk about it to other people because I feel somewhat immature about the way I'm living, but to be frank I'm kind of scared that I won't be able to do these things when I have a child. And let's not be silly, I mostly won't. Fatherhood is going to change me forever, which I'm excited about and completely terrified about. It's taken me 28 years to like the person I am. But I'll have to be someone new to be a good father.

Me as a Father

I have to admit that this all still seems a bit abstract. I'm very excited about this new journey and find myself talking to the baby already (he/she grew ears last week apparently).

Mimi's showing, but only for those who know her well enough to notice. We wouldn't have announced so early but that it was getting blatantly obvious. Seeing the bump makes it real, but otherwise it seems as if someone were telling me that a hurricane was coming--while the sky was clear and blue. So I at once feel overwhelmed by all that needs to be done and oddly calm. After all, the baby's not here yet.

Mimi's pregnancy has however made me reflective about my coming fatherhood, who I am and what I'm bringing to the family. I've thought a lot about my own failings. Will I be a good father?

I'm tempted to use this space to create a list of my own failings (in the process, perhaps showing myself to be self-centered enough to need to include "pride" and, er, "self-centeredness.") But I don't know that I could fit them in a list. And whether anyone would care to know them.

I just kind of wish that my child could be perfect. But he/she won't be. But perhaps if I could cause a limited amount of counseling for my child later in life (a joke). I want to be good at this. Nothing has mattered more in my life.