The Family Plan

As Miss Finley continues to grow and grow, it’s easy to get caught up in her little world. Making sure she’s happy is pretty much my number one goal. Whether I’m feeding her, changing her or just playing with her, nothing makes me happier than seeing that little smile. But as much as she is the center of my universe, it’s important that I always remember that she’s not just my little girl… she’s the final piece of the puzzle that makes our family.

Heather and I are coming up on our first anniversary, and for ten months we were referred to as a married couple. The two of us. We did couple things. We went on couple trips and ate couple dinners. Then along came Finley. She wasn’t just a wonderful blessing and a miracle… She made us a family. Now we will always go on family trips and eat family dinners… family things.

And the reality is… our family is just an extension of two other families. Two families that are not only important to us, but a great source of information and inspiration. There are brothers and sisters with kids of their own. There are grandmas and grandpas with stories and advice. But most of all, there are people we trust when we have questions or concerns.

It’s like parenthood gives you the chance to see your parents and grandparents in a whole new light. Suddenly, you get it. I mean, as a kid, your parents are superheroes. They can carry every piece of luggage in one trip, they can fix a bike tire in five minutes, they can sew a ripped seam of your favorite stuffed animal in a blink of an eye or heal that scraped knee with a magic spray. Then somewhere along the line, we become independent. We don’t have time to ask for help. We can carry our own luggage and fix our own tires. We grow out of stuffed animals and buy band aids.

Sometimes we’re so fierce in our independence that we do or say things we don’t really mean or make decisions we regret later in life. And that’s when our parents are the real superheroes. Because they let us do those things. And as much as it may hurt them or us, they know we will learn from it. Then, as we become adults, our parents become something even more than superheroes… They become human. We find ourselves carrying their luggage, now.

But, as everything does, it all comes full circle. We become parents and they watch as we go through the same struggles and joys that they did. And even though we may not say it, we thank them for everything. How? They see it in smiles of our kids. Because as parents, that’s all we want… For our children to be happy. When they smile, we smile.

This past week, Heather’s grandma came to town to see her new great granddaughter. That’s four generations of girls in the same room. And as I watched those four talk and reminisce and play with the baby, I saw the pride of parenthood… three times over. I don’t think anyone stopped smiling all week.

Daddy’s on the phone, right now.

There are a lot of things about parenthood that you don’t necessarily understand until you are there. People try to tell you (well, warn you, really) how things will never be the same. You know you are on the road to parenthood when everyone, including people you don’t know, warn you about how much sleep you won’t be getting. But those little tidbits are pretty obvious. I mean, we knew things weren’t going to be the same. It’s pretty much WHY we wanted to be parents. We’re quite fond of our newfound non-sameness.

As far as the lack of sleep goes, it really was tough at first. But, like anything worthwhile, you learn to adapt. Except for my most recent groggy non-diaper change, I don’t find it so horrible. I can’t speak for Heather, of course, but everything I do is worth it whenever I pick Finley up from her bed. I love the way she lays her head on my shoulder as I carry her to the changing table. I love how she holds on to our shoulders and sometimes even lifts her head up to see what’s happening in this great big world. But it’s that full-on body hug that’s the best. I know she’s tired and just clinging, but I feel like the world’s best teddy bear when she does that.

Another part of parenthood that is a “you have to be there” kind of thing is the difference between friends with kids and friends without. Way back in the old days when I was single, I used to HATE it whenever I was talking to a buddy and in mid-sentence he would start having a conversation with his kid. There’s the inevitable, “Daddy’s on the phone, right now,” that comes through the line, but we all know the kid knows that. If daddy wasn’t on the phone, junior would probably not be bugging daddy. It would drive me crazy.

Of course, I understood that the kid is the center of the universe… I just didn’t think it counted when I was on the phone talking to the daddy. But, as I said, things change when it’s your turn. Not that Finley is suddenly talking while I’m on the phone, but there are instances where whatever I’m doing or working on has to take a back seat to the little one who is discovering the intricacies of her larynx.

I know that these little yelps and shouts will eventually become tiny little words that will one day resemble the sound of “daddy!” And how many incarnations of “daddy” will there be? There will be the one that she’ll yell when she skins a knee. And the one that she’ll yell when she needs a glass of water at 2:00 am. Then there’s the one she’ll yell when I do something dorky or embarrassing (that one will happen a lot, I bet). But the one I can’t wait for is when that little voice calls to me as I walk in the door from work. It’s the one that says “I love you. I missed you. Welcome home.” That’s the “daddy” that matters most. And I’m not answering the phone for anything, then.

So, I apologize in advance to any of my friends and family out there to whom I interrupt what is sure to be a most interesting conversation with “Daddy’s on the phone, right now.” Don’t take it personally. It’s just a little voice I’ve been waiting to hear her entire life. Besides, if I can train her to bug me when the telemarketers call, it will all be worthwhile.

One Mother of a Day

Before I launch into my actual blog post, I have to relay an incident that happened this weekend. Besides, Heather wouldn’t let me get very far without saying something. It started early Saturday morning when the baby alarm clock went off. I took Finley in for a diaper change while Heather prepped for a breakfast nurse. A few minutes later, I handed Finley off to mama and about halfway through the first part of her breakfast, she dropped a big one. Now, it’s fairly normal for babies to pass gas or even poop while they’re eating… the meal goes in, moves the last meal onward and outward… But this one was particularly loud and smelly. At this point, it was easy to determine that a second diaper change was due, so as I lifted my little poop factory, I noticed (well, it wasn’t too hard to miss) that the nastiness had leaked clear through to her outfit. Not only that, but it had soaked the pad she lays on while nursing. Immediately, I began to wonder what I had done wrong. Did I not fasten the tape tabs to the diaper correctly? Were the legs too loose? As I removed the fouled outfit I immediately saw my mistake; it wasn’t that I hadn’t put the diaper on incorrectly. It was that I hadn’t put the diaper on at all. That’s right. Daddy, in his early-morning stupor, had forgotten to put the diaper on the baby. And boy, did I pay for it. The only saving grace in all of this is that we are so lucky she’s not eating solid food, yet.

And now back to my regularly scheduled blog.

For the past nine weeks, I have been living the life of a very lucky man. Not only do I have a healthy and happy baby girl, but that baby’s mama is pretty darned great, too. She may be a first-timer, but from what I’ve seen, Heather is in the running for rookie of the year. I had my two weeks of paternity to get my feet wet with the whole daddy-thing, but Heather is in week seven of leave and has it all down to a science. Sure, there are the moments that can’t be controlled… Finley likes to remind us that she runs the show, no matter what schedule we try to throw at her… But like a real pro, Heather has learned to roll with it and incorporate Finley’s forays into her plans. And then there’s all the love that goes around in our home. Our place may be small, but it’s packed full of hugs and kisses. That little girl may have me wrapped around her finger, but she’s quite the mama’s girl. They’re having little mommy-daughter conversations that I know, one day, will turn into the real deal. Heather is a fantastic mommy, and I know why that is. It’s because Heather is just like her own mom, which is a very good thing. And the reason I know that is because in many ways, Heather’s mom is much like my mom. You see, both began the life of mom at a young age. They didn’t get the chance to live out their 20’s or 30’s like their friends. Instead of college or weekends with the girls, they were at home, figuring out what it takes to not only raise a family, but keep that family together through tough times. I’m not saying they were alone or the only one’s that have ever had to do this, but both Heather and I have our moms to thank for giving us a great idea of what families are all about. We may celebrate moms once a year, but I know from what I’ve seen in my past and what I’m seeing right now, Mother’s Day is every day.

Tour of Doody

Well my two-week tour of doody has come to a close and there are a few things I have learned as Mr. Mom:

1. The smartest thing you can do is keep your diaper bag stocked and ready at all times.

Heather, being the organizing guru that she is, clued me into the first one. You have to think of the diaper bag as your home-away-from-home. Your changing table in a purse, if you will. All you have to do is think about what would happen if you are in the middle of Target and your baby drops the big one. Are you prepared? If you have a properly stocked diaper bag, you are. So, re-stocking the bag when you get home will only help you in the long run.

2. Eating lunch with one hand is a parental skill.

Being home alone with a munchkin, you learn quickly to leave real-world time behind and follow the baby clock. The problem with the baby clock is that there are no numbers and no hands. BUT, there is an alarm. When she wakes up crying, you wake up (crying is optional). When she wants to eat, you feed her. When she sleeps, you do laundry, dishes, pick up and eat if you get the chance. Most likely, your lunch is a one-handed affair and you learn right away to try and avoid foods that drip. Because it is guaranteed you will have the princess in one hand and your sandwich in the other. During my next paternity leave, I plan to experiment with adult-sized bottles. I’m sure some sort of blender-created meal will be tested.

3. I will miss my little girl, immensely while I am back at work.

I have had a great two weeks. Really. In the past 14 days, Finley has not only continued her string of getting up only once in the middle of the night, but we had two nights in a row where she slept eight hours straight. I became the master of one-handed baby bathing and, according to Heather, I was even able to coordinate girls clothing appropriately. But even with those major accomplishments under my belt I feel like I’m going to miss out on a whole bunch of other new things. She has changed so much in the past two weeks. Her eyes are becoming more blue, rather than the standard-issue newborn black. Her hair is lighter and we’re noticing a bit of red, so it looks like she’ll be a strawberry blonde. She’s holding her neck up very well and the smiles are becoming more and more prevalent and hopefully not as gas-related as before.

I know I’ll miss her new little noises. Little coos and giggles that are SO cute. I’ll miss the way her little legs kick all over the place when I’m trying to change her, as if she’s trying to run away. And I’ll miss the little sigh she makes when she’s settling down in my arms. But what I think I will miss the most is the way she looks at me right before I pick her up. It’s a look in her eyes that says “I’m safe. This guy is going to take care of me.”

I know her mama will take good care of her and I will see her at the end of every day, but it doesn’t mean my heart won’t skip a beat when I’m at work and I think about what she’s doing right now. I guess that’s something I’ll have to get used to for the rest of my life.