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.

The Storm

Two things I have learned in the past week:
1. Babies have amazing stamina and vocal ability for their size.
2. As hard as things can be, I have it easy compared to my wife.
How did I come to such astute conclusions? I lived it, man. I’m living it, now.
I realize that much of what I have been writing and what I will be writing is old news to those of you out there who are parents. I also realize that many of my theories and assumptions may be way off. But, that’s what makes all of this so interesting. It’s all new to me! That being said, my daughter can cry like no other person I have ever heard.
What makes Finley’s cries so astounding to me, is how long she can go. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I time her or am trying to get her to break some record, but when that girl gets going, I sometimes wonder if the world is ending and I’m not noticing.
At first, it bothered me a whole bunch. I wondered if she was in pain or if I had done something wrong, but I think aside from occasional gas pains, her cries are her only way of communicating. She’s talking to me through these little, sometimes big noises. And there are different cries for different needs/emotions.
There’s the “I’m awake, you should feed me” cry. It sounds like a short cat squall to me. There’s the “He idiot, my pacifier fell out of my mouth” cry. That’s accompanied by the furrowed brow and pout of doom. Then there’s the “No you don’t get it. The pacifier isn’t working, give me a bottle, now” cry. If you don’t act fast enough with that one you’ll get the “You are the worst parents, ever. How can you make me starve?” cry. I’m not too fond of that one.
As I learned this week, during the first part of my paternity leave, there are ways to soothe the savage baby. But, ultimately, like the rest of us, food is comfort. I guess it’s the whole “fat and happy baby” theory. They say you can’t spoil an infant, but you CAN make them look like the Michelin Man. So, armed with a supply of breast milk and a stack of spit-up towels, I worked my way through week one.
The first two days weren’t so bad. Finley had a couple of three-hour naps which made the days go by nicely. Then days three and four hit. I was lucky if my little angel slept more than thirty minutes at a time. These were the days I learned the ins and outs of crying. The worst part of all of this was not knowing why she’s crying. As I said before, I have theories, but there’s always the thought in my head that she is in some sort of pain. And the worst of the worst is that she can’t tell me where it hurts.So, I keep cuddling her and stroking her hair and saying “Shhh” or talking softly to her. And it helps. Sometimes it takes a while, but she calms down. And that’s when I feel like dad. When this little person is sleeping soundly in my arms or on my chest, it doesn’t get any better.
But it’s also during these times I realize that I have it lucky. I don’t have to nurse or worry about breast pumping along with all the other daily baby duties. In fact, there are always a couple of bottles of mama’s milk in the fridge and all I have to do is warm them up. Heather is mom, milk machine and wife all wrapped into one. Finley and I have it good.
So now, as the second week begins, I am a bit more mentally prepared for what Finley has to throw at me. I know there will be more crying. I hope there will be more sleeping. And I’m sure I’ll discover some new part of babydom I never knew existed. But, I’ll be there to help her through all of it. Now, and for as long as I can. Because that’s my job. That’s a daddy’s job.

The Calm

It’s now six weeks since Finley arrived on our little planet and it’s been a pretty good ride, so far. She’s loved, fed, changed and bathed on a more than regular basis. The world around her is beginning to come into a little more focus. And those darn cute chubby cheeks just keep getting chubbier. Things, for the most part, have been smooth on our end as well. This is largely due to Heather and her aforementioned ability to wage control. But now, things are about to change.

Heather started her maternity leave the Friday before Finley was born (as planned, of course). But she has to go back into work for two weeks while her assistant, who was filling in, goes on her honeymoon. That means I start two of my six weeks of paternity leave, today. That’s right, I’m flying solo. And not just one of those Horizon Air, Seattle to Spokane flights. We’re talking full-on Seattle to Miami, direct connection.

Now, before you start envisioning me running around the house with wild hair and a mess on every surface (which oddly enough, is what life was like for me BEFORE marriage), you have to understand that I have a great coach. And although it may not seem like I am paying attention all the time or it may seem that I forget what she says or even hear it, I’m watching and learning.
You see, one of the reasons I knew I wanted to marry Heather (apart from the whole, “I am absolutely crazy in love with her” part) was because of the way she is around her niece and nephew. We go up to Whidbey Island whenever we can to visit her family. And almost every visit is centered around the kids, as it probably should be. And when Auntie Heather shows up, it’s better than a visit from Santa. Not because of the load of gifts she always seems to bring, but because she commands the kids with an even mixture of love and discipline. It’s not always a perfect day when we go to the Island, but the kids are always sad to see Auntie go.

So I watch and I learn. I watch her hold our baby with a gentle firmness. It’s loving yet strong enough to hold that little head or keep her still when she’s crying. I listen to her talk to Finley as if she could answer. They’re talking about clothes and growing up and even about daddy. And I watch her rock her to sleep. Heather is the safe, warm part of the crazy sea that is Finley’s life.

Sure there are the little things, like changing a diaper and giving a bath. But the important things all have to do with human contact. And Heather is a great example. Finley is a lucky little girl to have Heather for a mommy. And if I can be half as good for these two weeks, then I have nothing to worry about.

Baby Talk

As Finley grows and starts to become more aware of her surroundings and especially of her mommy and me, I sense that she’s in the beginning stages of communication. She’s not chiseling antelopes on our walls, but she is figuring out how her noises and body movements help her to get what she wants. Her arsenal of noises range from cooing to whimpers to grunts. And then there’s the old standby, the all-out cry. But even her crying is becoming selective to the needs she has. In fact her cries change depending on if she gets what she wants right away or not. The madder she gets the more tragic her cries become. She’s already becoming a drama queen, like her mama. Of course, Heather has no idea what I am talking about.

A typical communication session goes like this: She’ll be sleeping and either wake herself up with a jolt or just lay there as her eyes open. Once she figures out that she’s pretty much trapped like a turtle on her back, the first set of noises begin. There might be a subtle cooing sound or some heavy nose snorts to signal that sleep may not return. It’s like she’s trying to figure out who’s near, because if there is no immediate response, she’ll repeat the sounds. Sometimes she jumps straight into a short cry. It’s actually more of a yell. Sort of a, “Hey! I’m waking, here!” If it’s the middle of the night, she might realize that nobody’s rushing to her side and fall back to sleep. Or she’ll repeat the sounds then move on to grunts of frustration. Or she might decide that this is the time to wake up, and move to a nice, loud cry. That’s usually the time one of us picks her up.

The first few moments after the pickup are important, here. If she’s hungry, she’ll jump into the multiple, sustained cries which signal the need for food. Sometimes, she just wants to look around, from up high and may softly suggest with a couple of whimpers that she could snack, if it’s available. Ninety percent of the time, she needs a diaper change and depending on the previous hungry/slightly hungry mode, that could be a nice, easy pit stop or it could be a wrestling match. Either way, a bottle or a boob are most likely in the near future.

Now, our little angel may only be five weeks old, but she’s already becoming a picky eater. She loves to nurse for two reasons; The food and the comfort. Often times, to Heather’s dismay, she’ll suckle for a few minutes and conk out. Heather has to poke and prod and tickle Finley to remind her that she’s there for a reason. Then there are the times we bottle feed her. And since I am lactose intolerant, which means I don’t nurse, Daddy’s feeding times are all about the bottle. And as of late, I’m having to keep the wiggle worm at bay, while constantly reminding her that yes, this is still food. She’s not a big fan of the bottle… at first. But once she realizes that the food flows a little faster, she calms down. Eight times out of ten, after a bottle feeding and a big burp, she’s out for the count.

It’s during these bottle feedings… my most intimate time with her… that I wonder what’ going on in that little brain of hers. I mean, she has virtually no vocabulary to work with, so what are her thoughts? Are they images or from her five-week old memory? Sometimes when she sleeps, she seems to frown or smile or even wake herself up as if she’s scared. What could she possibly be dreaming? I would think her dreams would be limited to a short life spent looking up at us. So maybe she’s dreaming about us.

But it’s also during these bottle feedings that I wonder how long this will last. This constant dependence on these two people who are always looming overhead. Most of you out there will say it never ends. And as I think about that, it doesn’t seem so bad. We spend a good portion of our lives alone and/or looking for someone to be with. And here’s this little person that needs you. Right here. Right now. It can be overwhelming. But to me, as a new daddy, I wouldn’t want it any other way. Besides, it won’t be too long before she’s using her words and instead of a loud wail, it will be a loud “DADDY!” And I’ll get up in the middle of the night and go see what I can do for my little noisemaker.