#8: The Rational Anthem of Fathers Around the World

When you have a kid, you find yourself trying (unsuccessfully) to reason with them.

There's an old stereotype that men are rational and women are emotional. While this isn't universally true (obviously), it seems to hold up in the microcosm of parenting. At least the men are rational half of it, as this post will demonstrate (or disprove, depending on how you look at it).

Steph and I were at a gathering last week with friends, including two other new parent couples. The other fathers (Kazi and Stuart) and I were sharing parenting stories, when the subject of reasoning came up. As it turned out, all three of us had tried reasoning with our babies in a desperate attempt to get them to sleep, calm down, or stop crying. Intrigued, I thought I would share our stories with you all.

My attempts to rationalize with A. tend to go something like this: "A., why are you crying?  Mommy just fed you, so you can't be hungry.  And I just changed your diaper, so you're definitely not wet.  There's really no *reason* for you to be crying. Isn't that right, baby girl?  You can't just be fussy for fussy's sake!"

Kazi goes through something similar after picking up his son M. from his parents, who watch him a couple of days a week. Although he's fine during the morning commute, M. will cry pretty much the entire 30-minute drive home. As a result, Kazi finds himself trying to calm M. down by saying things like: "It's ok buddy, we're almost home. There's a breakdown at exit 16, which is *why* it's taking so long." Or, "It's just Red Sox traffic, we'll get past it soon." Of course a five-month-old infant is incapable of understanding the nuances of rush-hour traffic, but it helps Kazi deal with the stressful cacophony of crying baby and honking horns.

Stuart's reasoning skills are most often employed when attempting to lull his daughter J. to sleep, as the following (one-sided) conversation illustrates: "I see you rubbing your eyes.  I see you yawning.  You are tired.  You need to sleep. Instead, you decide that the best course of action is to flail your arms and feet, and cry.  At this point you have reached the maximum tired phase known as 'over-tired'.  The solution?  Sleep.  That's all you have to do.  Just go to sleep.  Do not flail, do not collect $200, go straight to sleep.  I don't *understand*."

Now, every proud papa likes to think their kid or baby or fetus is advanced. But to think they will listen to reason at an age when they have no control over the most basic bodily functions is downright irrational--and a little loony.  Yet we try anyway.  Why?  Perhaps because in scenarios where we have essentially no control, logic and reasoning give us the temporary illusion of control.

How have you tried to reason with your baby? 

#7: The New Adventures of Old Talents

When you have a kid, you put old talents to new use.

As I mentioned before, I am a musician.  While I play some guitar and piano, I am primarily a drummer.   I officially started playing drums when I was nine, though my parents tell me I started banging on pots and pans well before that.  And I've been playing in bands just as long.  In fact, my friend Nate and I started our first band before we could even play our instruments -- we spent our time coming up with band names and making posters -- and we're still in a band today.

Since A. was born, though, I've had very little time to play music.  Because of a confluence of major life events involving myself and other band members, Quoins went on hiatus.  And because of the constant effort required to care for a newborn, I haven't even played much around the house.  On the rare occasions I have been able to dabble with the piano, I've learned lullabies and nursery rhymes for A.

But as the title of this post suggests, I've been able to apply my drumming skills to the new-found challenges of parenting.  Drumming requires limb independence -- the ability to use all four limbs independently, without focusing on each one individually.  Thanks to my limb independence, I can simultaneously do something with my hands, such as eat, type, or navigate the TV remote, while using one foot to keep the Hoppy Days Bouncer bouncing at a steady rhythm.  It's like I'm playing a little baby bass drum.  And it does the trick.  I am able to keep A. sleeping or content, while getting something else done.  As a first-time parent, that's no small feat.

How have you applied old talents to the new challenges of parenting?

#6: Time Flies When You Have a Little One

When you have a kid, time flies even when you're doing "nothing".

Conventional wisdom and practical experience dictate that when you do nothing, time goes by slowly.  That's because inactivity begets boredom.  And boredom and the speed of time are inversely proportional; the more bored you are, the more painfully slow time drags on.

But when you have a kid, this "wisdom" gets flipped on its head.  I spent A.'s first week at home with Steph and we would do nothing for hours on end, except change the occasional diaper .  Yet, those hours seemed to pass like minutes.  At several points during the week, we looked at the clock in disbelief and said, "Is it really [...] o'clock?".

Although we weren't keeping ourselves busy with activities, we were completely enthralled with A.  We just sat there, staring at her in amazement, and that "nothing" accelerated time more than the best "something" imaginable.

From here on out, I'm guessing it will be impossible to be bored.  Sure, the initial awe and wonder might eventually wear off, but by that point, A. will be crawling, maybe even walking.  And then it will be a mad dash to keep up with her--and with time.

p.s. I originally had another post lined up, but because A. turned one month old yesterday, I thought this topic was timely.  Look for a post on putting old talents to new use on Thursday.

#5: Eating in Shifts

When you have a kid, you are often forced to eat in shifts.

Because our four-week-old daughter A. is on her own, often unpredictable, schedule, it can be hard for Steph and I to maintain a schedule of our own.  Family meals are no exception.  Several times we have been forced to eat in shifts because A. needed to be fed, held, or changed as we were seating down to eat, despite our best laid plans.

When that happens, one of us (usually Steph because of feeding) ends up microwaving their food while the other is already digesting.  For the early eater, there's something mildly sad about eating alone at the dining room table.  But for the late luncher,  it's a free pass to continue a habit we've been trying to break: eating in the living room.  At least that person has company, whether it's their spouse or just the TV.

Frankly, I don't like eating in shifts -- aside from an occasional weekend lunch, Steph and I always eat together at home -- but it's an inevitable reality of taking care of a newborn and so it's a small sacrifice we make.

#4: Packing a Bag to go Anywhere

When you have a kid, you have to pack a bag to go anywhere -- even another room in the house.

We live in a two-story cape with a (recently) finished basement.  That gives us three floors on which we could be hanging out at any given time.  To limit the amount of stuff we have to lug around, each floor has a changing area along with a stock of diapers, baby wipes, Vaseline, and hand sanitizer.  In the basement, we keep the pack-n-play, which has a changing station; on the other two floors, we have changing pads attached to dressers.

But then there's stuff that we can't, or don't care to, keep in threes.  All of this goes in the Kate Spade diaper bag Steph got from her sister.  The day planner where we track pees and poops and feedings.  Our cell phones (we recently got a land line but only my in-laws call us on it).  A water bottle.  An extra onesie (just in case!).  A pacifier (or two).  A receiving blanket.  Lansinoh cream.  More diapers and wipes (you can never have enough!).  Etc., etc., etc.

When Steph brings A. downstairs in the morning, the bag comes with her.  If we decide to watch TV in the basement, we bring it with us.  And when it's time for bed, it goes back upstairs.  Rinse and repeat.  That doesn't include leaving the house, which we've done only a handful of times since A. was born.  But from what I've seen, the packing requirements will only go up for the foreseeable future.

#3: D Batteries

When you have a kid, the D battery suddenly becomes relevant.

I can't remember the last time I thought of--let alone purchased--D batteries. Honestly, I was certain they were a dying breed, the Betamax of batteries.  Most consumer products today use AA or AAA batteries.  Think of your digital camera (yes, some require rechargeable battery packs) and the various remotes (e.g. TV, DVD, cable, etc.) lying around the house.  Musicians also rely heavily on 9V batteries to power a variety of effects pedals.  But nothing, I thought, still uses D batteries -- until Steph became pregnant with A.

When baby gifts started rolling in, I eagerly threw myself into assembling products of all shapes and sizes.  Much to my surprise, several of them took D batteries, including our Hoppy Days Bouncer, Lovin' Hug Swing, and  pack-n-play (love the names, by the way).  So now, in the junk drawer alongside the AAs and AAAs, I keep a steady supply of D batteries.  That way, when the Bouncer inevitably dies during the night or amid one of A.'s fussy periods, I won't have to rob Peter to pay Paul.  With my baby at ease, I too can be at ease.

What other baby products do you own that use D batteries?