Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Parenting Goals

So my newest son is now two weeks old, and i've managed to keep him alive.  I am feeling very accomplished as a father. This got me thinking about my goals as father.

I find the best way in raising my boys is to keep short term, attainable goals:
   Goal #1 - Keep the child alive
   Goal #2 - Teach the child how to stay alive
   Goal #3 - Be patient until the child is old enough to tell you what hurts

They may appear silly, but it blends the are easy to accomplish and easy to determine failure.  In addition to these, I do have some long term goals  for my children

   Long Term Goal #1 - Keep them out of prison
   Long Term Goal #2 - Get the out of the house by 22
   Long Term Goal #3 - Get them educated
   Long Term Goal #4 - Prevent them from becoming strippers

Once again the may seem non-sensical, but if I don't meet any of these goals it'll be pretty obvious that I fucked up as a father.

Thursday, November 21, 2013

And Then There Were Two...

I honestly thought I was going to have it easier than I anticipated with two kids.  When we brought our newborn home, and my 2 year olds first reaction was to give him some of his toy cars to play with, I thought that I had gotten off easy.  I truly thought to myself "No jealousy?  How did I get so lucky?".  It was soon afterwards that I realized, I'm an idiot!

Jealousy may not be an issue, but I'm being driven insane by the sounds of two children crying.  Between my oldest one's tantrums, and my younger one being a week old, someone is always crying.  And if it's not the noise, it's the smells.  My 2 year old has yet to be potty trained, so I am now changing the diapers of two human beings.  One of whom craps like a man, and the other who shoots out this messy waste that finally stopped being black.  Add in a small case of sleep deprivation, and you get a man on the verge of sensory overload.

And if all of that wasn't enough, with two kids and a wife on the mend from childbirth, all attempts to "relieve stress" are completely thwarted.  Doesn't matter the time of day, as soon as you start looking to "relax", someone always seems to "relax"-block.  It's honestly like living with my parents again.  The sneaking, the same, the remembering to clear the browsing history. 

So I'm a little on edge, and desperately look for a good nights sleep.  However since I have a little rooster that goes off every couple of hours, it may be awhile until I get it.

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

He's Here

He's finally arrived.  After 40 weeks of anxiety, preparation, and cravings, my new son has arrived.  Born via scheduled c-section, he is a perfectly healthy boy.  As for the birthing experience itself, this time was quite a bit different then last time.

The birth of my first son was prompted by an exam by my wife's OB, who I affectionally refer to as Dr. Barbie.  This twit managed to break my wife's water, while examing her on our lunch hour.  She was not contracting, she was hardly dilated, and thanks to this idiot, we had to call out of work and haul ass to the hospital.  My wife then got to experience 29 hours of the  Pitocin induced labor she always dreamed of.  This time, it was a little different.

Birthing by appointment, totally different.  We had  to be at the hospital at 12:30, so we filled the morning with errands.  My wife went out for breakfast, we scheduled a service call for the cable company, and got to spend a little time with my mother.  We were then greeted in the hospital by the admitting department, that hit us with the bill, (At least then told us how much beforehand, this time), and went to the prep area.  

It was at this point I began my count of doctors.  You would think, that being in a hospital, one would see a fair amount of doctors.  Apparently, that is a misnomer.  I saw registered nurses, nursing students, nurse practitioners, even an anesthesiology nurse, but hardly any doctors.  Aside from the private practice doctors, the only one we saw was an anesthesiologist, and he didn't stick around for the procedure.

So after I got over my doctor count obsession, it was time to roll her in.  The gave me my doctor get up, and sat me in the "Daddy" chair, while the started to work on my wife.  So I sat waited in this "Daddy" chair, which was in front of the doors to the surgical sweets.  I sat there staring at those doors, watching the janitorial staff come and go through the restricted areas, and when I had two realizations:

1.  That is appears that the lowest paid, least skilled personnel has access to all of the restricted areas
2.  and the I was sitting this in time out

It was at this time, the doors swung open and I was escorted to the surgical suite and got to witness the birth of my son.  My wonderful son.  Who is now crying.  As he does every 3 hours.  No matter the time of day.  Oh God, what did we do.

Thursday, November 7, 2013

To Tell or Not To Tell

My wife is coming to end of her pregnancy, and we will soon be welcoming a brand new baby boy into our home.  So with this in mind, I asked my son, "Are you excited that your little brother's almost here?"  To which  he promptly replied "No".  Me thinking this is him just being 2, I felt compelled to ask him "Why not?".  His answer: "No more fun", a response that floored me.

First, because it's a legitimate concern for him.  He assessed the question, and communicated a real answer.  Made me take notice about how big he's getting, and how he's no longer a baby. 

My second thought was how the hell did he come to this conclusion?  All of his little friends recently got new siblings, so it made me wonder if they sit around at day care discussing their plights?  And in one of these toddler bitch sessions, did one of them warn about the appearance of new babies?  Or is this in innate sense of self preservation?  A limbic response to a perceived change in the environment akin to the way no wild animals ever die in severe storms?  Is Darwin somehow telling him "Baby Bad"?

All that nonsense aside, I am faced with a real dilemma.  My wife will be giving birth in a week, and she is already anxious.  Do you convey the concerns of the 2 year old, or do you keep it to yourself until the new norm is realized?

I think I'm leaning towards the latter, so as not to burden my wife with another concern this late in the game.  I hope I'm right on this.

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

On A Mission...

So I walked into the kitchen the other day to find my son blindly reaching his hand onto the counter.  I say blindly because my son is not yet tall enough to see on top of the counter.  First he pulled down a small toy I had stepped on the night before, examined it and the pushed it aside.  He then proceeded to stick his hand back up, and try for something else.

Next he pulled down my keys.  He took his time to exam each key (there are ten on my ring), before he said "No", and also pushed them aside.  It was at this point that my curiosity got the better of me and I asked my son "What are you doing?".  To which the two year old replied "Nothing", and stuck his hand back up on the counter to feel around.

The next thing to come down was my wife's keys, and he once again examined each key.  He carefully looked over every key until he came to her car key (the longest one) said "A-HA", and ran away holding the key. 

At his point I had to see what was going on, so I followed.  And as I turned the corner, I was just in time to see my son use that key to pop the lock on our bathroom door, and barge in my wife on the toilet.

I laughed so hard, I think I peed.