Trying To Hold My Baby Is Like Arm Wrestling A Greased Up Kracken

Trying to hold my baby is like arm wrestling a greased up kracken. I mean, it's like my child wants to be dropped! All the while bungee jumping off of my shoulder using my bottom lip as a tether. It's like he hit the three month mark and entered super squirmy mode. I can remember when I was so excited that he "found his hands." He'd sit their staring at them, moving them, and being entertained. But now he's starting to know how to use his hands...and even his feet! Both him and his hands and feet are conspiring against me, I just know it. When did the days of him being this limp wrapped up burrito looking thing go away. He used to be so calm, so docile...well pterodactyl screaming aside. I mean I used to think the little guy was boring because he didn't do anything, aside from eat, poop, cry, sleep, repeat. But now he's finding his personality, and oh my. Let's just say if he wasn't my son and we met at a party, we probably wouldn't hang out.

When did my son get so strong?! I feel like maybe this kid actually came from Krypton. If this kid's hand/foot eye coordination gets any better I'm going to need riot gear just to change his diaper. I remember when he first came home and how paranoid I was that I might drop him or I'd bump his soft spot and the parent police would come and take him and his little deflated head away. Now I'm starting to think it was all an act. He is way too strong for a baby. People who use that saying, "it's like taking candy from a baby" have obviously never tried to take something from my little guy's kung fu grip. It amazes me how quickly the little guy has changed...and with as clumsy as me and his mom is, that's a good thing. Babies need to be stronger by month two or three as that's when their parents are at their weakest and most uncoordinated due to sleep deprivation. But it really is an encouragement. Like the other day he went to hold the bottle I was feeding him and my mind instantly filled with joy thinking of the day he'd be able to hold the bottle on his own. And yes, this is exciting for more reasons than just finally being able to use two hands for something again.

Just as he's learning and growing in bodily strength he seems to be discovering his different emotions as well. He now knows that there's more to feel other than hungry, sleepy, and furious indignation. This is amazing, but can be exhausting. It wouldn't be as big of an issue if he had an attention span that was longer than a fruit fly, but unfortunately that is not the case. He can be in the middle of laughing and start to cry. He seems to experiencing all of these new emotions one right after another after another. My little bipolar dude. But I think all baby's are at least a little bipolar as they learn and grow. Some days it seems completely random, what he's feeling and how he's expressing himself...like through screaming as loudly as he can. It seems like he could be upset at first then you realize he's just testing his voice. And from what I understand from other parents who have bravely battled on the fields of child rearing, children will always test their limits. Whether the limits they have physically, or the limits you place for them.  

All this to say, he's starting to develop a personality. And I am incredibly grateful. He's no longer this lump of pink play-dough, but a little human-like person. My wife is convinced he's going to be like me...loud, obnoxious, and passionate. If I was anything like this little dude when I was a baby, Mom and Dad, I am so so sorry, lol. He is an amazing kid and I love him dearly. I don't know what exactly I thought fatherhood was going to be like. But it's an amazing thing to get to see this little formless thing take shape, and grow in so many ways. It makes me question if I'm still growing. Is there a point where we as adults become happy with our limits? Do we stop exploring and become content with our understanding of the world? I know I haven't, or at least if I did...this little guy is stretching and growing me, forcing me to look at the world brand new every day just like he is.

(My littleman, Gideon)

I've Never Been Drunk, But I Imagine It's A Lot Like Having A Colicky Baby...

I've never been drunk, but I imagine it's a lot like having a colicky baby. Well, let's hold on a second, back up, and give a little bit of an explanation. So my wife was blessed to go back to work a while back and do part time. She's a nurse and works second shift, 7 pm-7 am, two days a week. We're actually pretty lucky as the two days she works coincides with my days off. This means that two nights a week I'm responsible for giving our son a bath, going through the bed time routine, and help send him off to sweet sweet dream land. It's quite a noble quest, one which a pantheon of parents before me have attempted and, ye verily, have even succeeded. However, while this is the goal, it is hardly ever the actual outcome...enter the drinking analogy.

So our night starts out with two close bros, a bottle of special drink (mommy's home brew), high hopes, and endless possibilities. But by about three hours in we're both crying, one of us has thrown up all over the place, and the other is tired, dazed, confused, and wishing he could start the night all over again, desperately looking towards the morning. It is about 3 am and we're 30 minutes into a second colic crying fit and I'm starting to have a new found respect for my wife who usually deals with this little mean drunk. The night goes by in a massive blur filled with frustration and regret. By the time its all over with we're both passed out wherever our heads happened to land last. I am so, so very weak...and my wife is the strongest woman I know.

I can barely get through a mere two nights, how on earth does my wife manage the other five?! I am quite literally begging for her to tag me out the moment she gets home from work. It's as if I'm a luchador wrestler that's fighting WAY outside of my weight class...which is saying something cause I'm kinda a big guy. Like I said, she's strong. I'm often jealous of how great my wife actually is with our littleman. It seems to be so natural and enjoyable for her. I know she has her struggles, but she carries them with such grace. She plays with him, reads to him, does "tummy time," constantly narrates her activities to include him in what she's doing, and somehow manages to carry him on her hip and successfully accomplish any task including cooking and cleaning single handedly. I on the other hand am lucky to walk straight, remember to feed myself, and constantly test the limits of my bladder while watching our little tyke, Thank God for good moms. My wife and own mom included. The Lord knows us dads could not possibly survive without them, nor could our children.

One of the hardest things about dealing with a difficult baby is not sounding like a jerk or a wimp to other parents who do not know what we're going through. I know I'm not a super star parent. I mean, come on, the name of this blog is "One Bad Dad" but I'm not a weenie. I thank God my son has ten fingers and ten toes and is healthy, intestinal pain aside. Every child has their challenges, or so I assume. Maybe you've been through what I'm going through, or maybe you're one of those evil parents that when they ask me how it's going and I have the strength to answer honestly you brag about how junior is seemingly perfect. Either way we all have our challenges in parenthood...if it's not happened yet, just wait, it'll eventually come. Just remember though, until it does, cut your fellow brothers and sisters in arms a break. And the next time I see you and have a heavy 5 o'clock shadow, stained t-shirt, and staggered demeanor know that it wasn't from a hard night of partying, but of parenting.  

I Would Gladly Live In A Cardboard Box

If it came down to it, I would gladly live in a cardboard box for the rest of my life. And what I mean to say is I would gladly sell all of my possessions and live a meager existence all for the sake of my little boy. I would give up anything for that little guy. I don't know if it's because of some bad examples of parenting in the news lately, but I've been thinking about how much I love my "littleman" and how I'd do anything for him. I certainly have had my struggles as a new dad, especially in regards to dealing with a kid who throws up after every meal and battles colic on a nightly basis. I'm not above calling my kid a punk and getting upset when he cries. I've even put on my shooting range noise canceling ear muffs to deal with his high pitched screams before. But there is a sense of pride and responsibility that I have because of this little human being that sorta kinda looks like me.

There's an overwhelming sense of pride that I've found comes with being a father. Sure it's frustration to the point of wanting to pull your hair out, but the moment he farts and then smiles your heart could almost burst out of your chest with pride. It was a little more difficult when he was fresh out of the womb because he really didn't have that much of a personality to honest. But in his defense, when you're using all of your cognitive function not to be overwhelmed by all of the new things around you, that's everything to a baby, you don't have much more energy to expel on being interesting. However, now that he's a little older than three months his personality is developing, he can actually smile, and even roll over! I never thought I'd be so excited that a little human I made could do something my child hood dog could do by the time he was the same age. But I am, and it's an amazing thing to see this little person develop and grow.

I believe at least once, if not thousands of more times, in the history of fatherhood dads have felt this pride and been motivated to be better men and do whatever they can to better their child's life. But in that process often times fathers have done so at the expense of the relationship they have with their children. As my littleman grows and develops I have a sense of duty to continue to grow and become better myself. This little guy is eventually going to be mobile and start talking. I've really got to up my game and make sure that when he wants to start mirroring me and his mother that we're worth being mirrored. However I need to make sure that I don't get so caught up in the process of self improvement that I forget the point.

I never want to stop becoming a better father and I know there's nothing I wouldn't do for the kiddo. I would die for my little boy. But the challenging part of fatherhood isn't deciding to make a sacrifice just once, but living for him sacrificing every day. It's easy to die for someone, but so much harder to live for them...and that's what we're called to do as fathers. Now maybe you're not like me and been blessed with an amazing father to look back to as an example, but you know however how basic what a decent father looks like. And as long as you're trying, you're doing better than a lot of the fathers out there.