We’ve all seen them; the comedic sprint in the middle of the night as a panicked father-to-be grabs anything and everything in sight for his overnight bag. Meanwhile, the very pregnant mom is panting and waiting patiently. And then for comedic punctuation, something vitally important is left behind, most likely its mom, as the mad dash for the car is made.
Cue the laugh track.
Once in the delivery room, mom is sweating, grunting, and pushes a few times. Less than a minute or two later, baby appears (an infant that amazingly looks like their 10 months old) and our intrepid dad passes out.
Cue the laugh track again.
Reality however, is nothing like that.
The labor pains did increase around 2 am, and after we got confirmation from the doctor that we should head over to the hospital, we did have to scramble for the bags. But fortunately we both started packing them a few days ago, even though we thought that at 37 weeks into pregnancy, we had a few weeks more to go before the baby arrived. And that’s my number one piece of advice for an expectant father—
Be prepared, there’s no such thing as being too early.
In the triage room of the maternity ward, my wife was checked out by the nurse and determined to be only one centimeter dilated. But according to our doctor, who we just saw the previous afternoon, the amount the cervix is effaced is actually more crucial. At the appointment it was 80 percent, and now it was 90 percent. The nurse recommended that my wife drink lots of water (she eventually consumed more than 56 ounces) and walk around the maternity ward hallways for a couple of hours.
As we traversed the darkened halls I could visibly see the change in her face. The cramps that had lasted a few minutes were now increasing in length and frequency with every lap, and she grew pale as the mild cringing segued to paralyzing agony. It was a helpless feeling as I watched her grip tightly to the rails along the walls and the pain nearly brought her to her knees. Our jaunt barely lasted the requested two hours and the nurse checked again, now she was three centimeters dilated and it was a foregone conclusion that our baby was going to make her debut three weeks early.
Not long after being moved to the delivery room, my wife was quick to ask for the epidural, which seemed to work quickly and effectively at easing the pain. The stereotypical moments of anguish and lashing out at the husband didn’t happen, but she did have an intense expression that simply said, “I love you dear, but if another person comes in here and tells me to hang in there I WILL SHOVE THEIR HEAD UP THEIR REAR SO THEY CAN WATCH ME KICK THEIR A** UP AND DOWN THE HALL!”
It was a lot of sweat, groaning, pushing, and general chaos as the nurses swirled around to help monitor mom and baby. In what felt like a blur, fifteen hours had elapsed since we first arrived at the hospital before the home stretch took place, and even that took another three hours. Despite the gruelingly long ordeal, my wife showed amazing stamina and fortitude. This wasn’t just my opinion, but the doctor and nurses as well. Where she found the well of energy to continually tap into was baffling.
I mopped her brow between every push and I knew the big moment was coming very soon. Even though the scissors to cut the umbilical cord were laid out for me on a nearby table, and I could even see the baby’s hairy head crowning, I still felt numb and in a daze. A truck could have run me over just then and I don’t think I would have felt anything.
When the baby’s head finally popped out, it was like a bucket of ice water was dumped on me. There she is! There’s my daughter! A quick cry followed as she was pulled out into the world. Without much prompting, I grabbed the scissors and snipped the cord. It was a foretold momentous occasion that was easier than I thought.
The nurses moved her to a pen where she was kept warm by an overhead heater as they poked her with needles and cleaned her up. Incredibly, our daughter didn’t cry much during the procedure. The only exception was the needles, and that was understandable. Otherwise she just simply moved her eyes back and forth at what must have been to her giant blobs moving around. Could it be fascinated curiosity that I saw?
Unlike what you see portrayed in Hollywood, giving birth is bloody, and some people might describe it as messy. With the placenta coming out after the baby, and in my wife’s case, the extra stitching needed to fix her up, that description would be accurate. If an expectant dad has a weak constitution, then yes, passing out is a real possibility. My advice though, suck it up (watch some gory horror flicks like Saw to build up a stronger stomach), because in the end it’s all worth it.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
Here she comes…poking out the womb
It’s less than six weeks to go now and I have to admit my nerves have jumped up a few notches lately. I keep looking at the calendar, trying to anticipate the big moment either happening as schedule (which I know is a remote possibility) or a week or two ahead of the due date of September 29th. Recently a co-worker of mine just had her baby and she was two weeks early. That event just reinforced my nervousness and the nagging feeling that my little girl is coming into the world sooner than planned.
My wife just had a fun and fabulous baby shower. I know it was because (shocker!) I was there for the whole thing. We were extremely fortunate to have a friend that not only stepped up and volunteered to organize the shower, but also cleverly incorporated games that didn’t alienate the males in attendance. For other fathers out there you may not get that lucky, but if you are asked to come to the shower my advice is to suck it up and go. The mom-to-be will enjoy the support and who knows, you may have fun opening all the gifts. Now who doesn’t have fun opening presents? We’re all still kids at heart, anxious for Christmas morning.
The baby wardrobe continues to grow exponentially, along with blankets, pacifiers, teething rings, and toys. Also in abundance at the shower was advice. According to my wife, she’s been hearing that for the last eight months. Walking around with a baby bump is not only a great conversation starter, it makes you a target for the good and bad advice about what to expect, what to do, and what other parents have gone through. Much like the three pink diaper bags we now have, we appreciate the gifts and take it all in stride.
With the birth classes and the baby shower behind us now, and our daughter intensely pushing, poking and prodding her mom’s belly, the anticipation continues to build. Next week we have the third and final ultrasound scheduled and soon after will come the weekly doctor’s appointments. September will be crunch time right from the beginning, and we’re struggling to get all our ducks in a row.
The biggest question mark that remains is still child care. We’ve visited a couple of places, both of which seemed like a warm, secure, and friendly environment. But the price tag is steep either way, and even though we’re looking only to take our child there 3 or 4 days a week, we’re still expected to pay for the entire week! This just seems like a baffling concept to us and downright highway robbery. Part time and flexible care appears to be a foreign concept to these centers. They smile and appear helpful to your questions and concerns, maybe that’s because they’re secure in the bill they’ll hand you later.
As the big moment appears on the horizon, we’re both hoping the road after doesn’t get too rough. Like any father, I just want to provide the best for my daughter, but that’s a daunting task. I’ve read in father-to-be books that money worries and longing to make more is a natural compulsion. That’s one of the few things they seemed to have gotten absolutely right. It’s foremost on my mind when I wake up and when I go to sleep at night. I keep looking at that crib knowing we have to find an answer very soon.
My wife just had a fun and fabulous baby shower. I know it was because (shocker!) I was there for the whole thing. We were extremely fortunate to have a friend that not only stepped up and volunteered to organize the shower, but also cleverly incorporated games that didn’t alienate the males in attendance. For other fathers out there you may not get that lucky, but if you are asked to come to the shower my advice is to suck it up and go. The mom-to-be will enjoy the support and who knows, you may have fun opening all the gifts. Now who doesn’t have fun opening presents? We’re all still kids at heart, anxious for Christmas morning.
The baby wardrobe continues to grow exponentially, along with blankets, pacifiers, teething rings, and toys. Also in abundance at the shower was advice. According to my wife, she’s been hearing that for the last eight months. Walking around with a baby bump is not only a great conversation starter, it makes you a target for the good and bad advice about what to expect, what to do, and what other parents have gone through. Much like the three pink diaper bags we now have, we appreciate the gifts and take it all in stride.
With the birth classes and the baby shower behind us now, and our daughter intensely pushing, poking and prodding her mom’s belly, the anticipation continues to build. Next week we have the third and final ultrasound scheduled and soon after will come the weekly doctor’s appointments. September will be crunch time right from the beginning, and we’re struggling to get all our ducks in a row.
The biggest question mark that remains is still child care. We’ve visited a couple of places, both of which seemed like a warm, secure, and friendly environment. But the price tag is steep either way, and even though we’re looking only to take our child there 3 or 4 days a week, we’re still expected to pay for the entire week! This just seems like a baffling concept to us and downright highway robbery. Part time and flexible care appears to be a foreign concept to these centers. They smile and appear helpful to your questions and concerns, maybe that’s because they’re secure in the bill they’ll hand you later.
As the big moment appears on the horizon, we’re both hoping the road after doesn’t get too rough. Like any father, I just want to provide the best for my daughter, but that’s a daunting task. I’ve read in father-to-be books that money worries and longing to make more is a natural compulsion. That’s one of the few things they seemed to have gotten absolutely right. It’s foremost on my mind when I wake up and when I go to sleep at night. I keep looking at that crib knowing we have to find an answer very soon.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Getting an education
Well, we’re half way through our four-week long birthing classes now. So far I have to highly recommend them to any parents-to-be. Now others may not have the same exact experience and be fortunate enough to have a light-hearted instructor eager share her expertise and plenty of funny anecdotes too, but the content alone is still worth the money.
Granted, there was the stereotypical gritty video of women actually giving birth. The sweat and anguish was notable, but not nearly as glaring though as the full frontal nudity. As we go from one mother to another on the video I’m thinking to myself: Is it really hot in that room? Does giving birth raise body temperature so high that women have to be in their birthday suit too? The looks of shocked faces around the room confirmed that I wasn’t alone in my puzzlement.
Later in the video we hear one couple share how wonderful the early labor stages were as they spent time going on nature walks, and chatting and napping together in between the excruciating contractions. What no hugging trees or trying to commune with fish? Afterwards our instructor offered a succinct explanation to everything by admitting she should have prefaced the whole video by saying it was made in Boulder.
Recently we covered the breathing techniques and they made sense to me. Then again, I’m not the one pushing a watermelon through a nostril. I’m just the Coach in all of this, which the instructor maintains is a vital support role for the moms. That’s kind of hard to grasp as I’m kneeling on the floor mat going through the breathing exercises with my wife and we’re both trying to keep a straight face. Nevertheless, I stay tuned (hoping neither of us hyperventilate) because I know being there for any kind of support will make a difference in the delivery room.
Speaking of which we got the grand tour of the maternity floor and that was also very helpful in visualizing where we go and how this will all play out when our little girl arrives. We were first shown the enormous delivery room, which felt very much like center stage of the action complete with spotlights on the bed. I suppose all that room is needed for all doctors, nurses, and equipment that will be trafficking in and out. Still, the size and atmosphere was daunting even now with the room empty.
Down the hall was the nursery, and as our instructor explained the arm bands and the security alarm system in place, the entire class kept looking back at the two little infants on the other side of the glass getting attention from the nurse. Even though we plan to keep our daughter in the room with us, at some point she will have to be in there undergoing post delivery tests. And when that happens, I’ll be firmly rooted outside these windows not wanting to let her out of my sight.
So dads, in the end, keep in mind that when going through these classes to try to absorb as much as you can. For me, since I have an inquisitive mind that was relatively easy. Going in, there was so much of this process that was shrouded in mystery, and now a lot of those details have been filled in.
Granted, there was the stereotypical gritty video of women actually giving birth. The sweat and anguish was notable, but not nearly as glaring though as the full frontal nudity. As we go from one mother to another on the video I’m thinking to myself: Is it really hot in that room? Does giving birth raise body temperature so high that women have to be in their birthday suit too? The looks of shocked faces around the room confirmed that I wasn’t alone in my puzzlement.
Later in the video we hear one couple share how wonderful the early labor stages were as they spent time going on nature walks, and chatting and napping together in between the excruciating contractions. What no hugging trees or trying to commune with fish? Afterwards our instructor offered a succinct explanation to everything by admitting she should have prefaced the whole video by saying it was made in Boulder.
Recently we covered the breathing techniques and they made sense to me. Then again, I’m not the one pushing a watermelon through a nostril. I’m just the Coach in all of this, which the instructor maintains is a vital support role for the moms. That’s kind of hard to grasp as I’m kneeling on the floor mat going through the breathing exercises with my wife and we’re both trying to keep a straight face. Nevertheless, I stay tuned (hoping neither of us hyperventilate) because I know being there for any kind of support will make a difference in the delivery room.
Speaking of which we got the grand tour of the maternity floor and that was also very helpful in visualizing where we go and how this will all play out when our little girl arrives. We were first shown the enormous delivery room, which felt very much like center stage of the action complete with spotlights on the bed. I suppose all that room is needed for all doctors, nurses, and equipment that will be trafficking in and out. Still, the size and atmosphere was daunting even now with the room empty.
Down the hall was the nursery, and as our instructor explained the arm bands and the security alarm system in place, the entire class kept looking back at the two little infants on the other side of the glass getting attention from the nurse. Even though we plan to keep our daughter in the room with us, at some point she will have to be in there undergoing post delivery tests. And when that happens, I’ll be firmly rooted outside these windows not wanting to let her out of my sight.
So dads, in the end, keep in mind that when going through these classes to try to absorb as much as you can. For me, since I have an inquisitive mind that was relatively easy. Going in, there was so much of this process that was shrouded in mystery, and now a lot of those details have been filled in.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Kicking it into higher gear
In the past few weeks I’ve learned quite a few things about fatherhood.
First of all, books about what father’s should expect are hit and miss. Be picky about what’s out there or you’ll end up thinking it’s a giant waste of time.
Second, feeling my child’s kick for the first time is an awe-inspiring, eye-opening, incredible experience. There aren’t enough words in the English language (or any language for that matter) to justifiably describe it.
And last, but not least...putting a crib together is a royal pain in the butt! I’ll expand more on that later.
For my birthday I received a delightful book entitled, “So you’re Going to Be a Dad” by Peter Downey. It is a funny, light-hearted tome detailing the highs and lows of fatherhood, and what to expect in the delivery room and beyond. I immensely enjoyed it and read it cover to cover in just a few days. The author included a strong encouragement to read other books and learn as much as you can. So I was inspired to go to the library and expand my knowledge.
Little did I know that not all fatherhood books are alike. Some are written with negative slants and are just downright misogynistic. They can be chock full of warnings about your wife’s potentially violent mood swings, anger spawned by her unavoidable stretch marks, disruptions in your marriage, and horrid tales about the darker side of child care centers. I even came across a passage in one book called, “If You’re Doctor Is an A**hole”, and another passage that warned about fathers turning into raging lunatics at the hospital. Really? This is the sage wisdom and advice you want to spout? My advice to expectant fathers is to peruse what’s in libraries and bookstores with a very discerning eye, and digest it with a grain of salt.
No book can do justice however to the wondrous moment of feeling the baby kick for the first time. It took many tries, and lots of patience, but I finally caught up with our ever elusive baby. At this point in the pregnancy there’s precious little room to do somersaults and cartwheels. The kicks are getting stronger week by week, and at last I felt a big one hit the tip of my finger.
WOW! That’s her! I felt her! For the rest of the night I stared at my hand in amazement. It was the kick of my daughter and of reality. It might as well have been a kick in the head.
Driving that point home more was enduring the time-honored struggle of Man versus Crib. I took to the task with much enthusiasm, but that was dashed slightly as I discovered the crucial instructions weren’t printed in a handy booklet. Instead, some twisted masochist decided to put them on a giant sticker planted on the crib’s mattress support board. Great, so when I need to reference these instructions to figure out whether it’s screw "D" or screw "K" that goes into slot "M", I have to look at one of the important parts of the crib that is going into the actual assembly! That’s like putting a car together from scratch and having to reference the instructions imprinted on the undercarriage of the car!
After receiving an excruciatingly painful pinch from one screw that resulted in a quick bandage job on my finger, numerous drops of the Allen wrench used to fasten much of the crib together, and timely assistance from my wife, we accomplished our goal. The picture that was taken of the crib and promptly posted on Facebook should have been accompanied with the musical chants of hallelujah.
Despite the struggles though, it was truly worth it. There it sits in our bedroom now, awaiting the precious occupant that will slumber there for many nights to come. And here I am, father-to-be, sore and certainly wiser than I was not too long ago about my daughter and what the future holds.
First of all, books about what father’s should expect are hit and miss. Be picky about what’s out there or you’ll end up thinking it’s a giant waste of time.
Second, feeling my child’s kick for the first time is an awe-inspiring, eye-opening, incredible experience. There aren’t enough words in the English language (or any language for that matter) to justifiably describe it.
And last, but not least...putting a crib together is a royal pain in the butt! I’ll expand more on that later.
For my birthday I received a delightful book entitled, “So you’re Going to Be a Dad” by Peter Downey. It is a funny, light-hearted tome detailing the highs and lows of fatherhood, and what to expect in the delivery room and beyond. I immensely enjoyed it and read it cover to cover in just a few days. The author included a strong encouragement to read other books and learn as much as you can. So I was inspired to go to the library and expand my knowledge.
Little did I know that not all fatherhood books are alike. Some are written with negative slants and are just downright misogynistic. They can be chock full of warnings about your wife’s potentially violent mood swings, anger spawned by her unavoidable stretch marks, disruptions in your marriage, and horrid tales about the darker side of child care centers. I even came across a passage in one book called, “If You’re Doctor Is an A**hole”, and another passage that warned about fathers turning into raging lunatics at the hospital. Really? This is the sage wisdom and advice you want to spout? My advice to expectant fathers is to peruse what’s in libraries and bookstores with a very discerning eye, and digest it with a grain of salt.
No book can do justice however to the wondrous moment of feeling the baby kick for the first time. It took many tries, and lots of patience, but I finally caught up with our ever elusive baby. At this point in the pregnancy there’s precious little room to do somersaults and cartwheels. The kicks are getting stronger week by week, and at last I felt a big one hit the tip of my finger.
WOW! That’s her! I felt her! For the rest of the night I stared at my hand in amazement. It was the kick of my daughter and of reality. It might as well have been a kick in the head.
Driving that point home more was enduring the time-honored struggle of Man versus Crib. I took to the task with much enthusiasm, but that was dashed slightly as I discovered the crucial instructions weren’t printed in a handy booklet. Instead, some twisted masochist decided to put them on a giant sticker planted on the crib’s mattress support board. Great, so when I need to reference these instructions to figure out whether it’s screw "D" or screw "K" that goes into slot "M", I have to look at one of the important parts of the crib that is going into the actual assembly! That’s like putting a car together from scratch and having to reference the instructions imprinted on the undercarriage of the car!
After receiving an excruciatingly painful pinch from one screw that resulted in a quick bandage job on my finger, numerous drops of the Allen wrench used to fasten much of the crib together, and timely assistance from my wife, we accomplished our goal. The picture that was taken of the crib and promptly posted on Facebook should have been accompanied with the musical chants of hallelujah.
Despite the struggles though, it was truly worth it. There it sits in our bedroom now, awaiting the precious occupant that will slumber there for many nights to come. And here I am, father-to-be, sore and certainly wiser than I was not too long ago about my daughter and what the future holds.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Congratulations! It’s a…girl?
My advice to first time fathers, and couples in general, when it comes to expert opinions and theories about determining the sex of your baby—take absolutely no stock in any of it. We heard the whole gamut as I blogged about before—the baby is active, so it must be a boy; the heartbeat is fast, so it must be a boy; mom-to-be is carrying the baby in this particular way (high, middle, or low) so it must be a girl (or boy). We’ve heard and read all sorts of allegedly sound theories, but the real truth is that none of it is reliable.
But we had more to go on than just old wives’ tales. Our own doctor, after last month’s appointment, chimed in with her confident proclamation that it’s a boy. She even went as far as saying she would put money on it in Vegas. Well after that assessment, how could we not be influenced? She is the expert! Ever since then we’ve been eyeing boys’ clothes and boy-themed bedding sets, while vainly trying to keep an open mind.
Good thing no money changed hands.
The enormously anticipated second ultrasound appointment put the kibosh on all of the rampant speculation. As we both silently expected to hear the confirmation announced at any minute, the tech dropped a surprise: IT’S A GIRL. Cue the sound effect of the record player needle being scratched against vinyl.
A girl? Not a boy? The tech explained the evidence, and it just goes to show that medical science gets to have the last laugh. My instant reaction was not disappointment (I truly didn’t care either way), but rather stunned excitement. Visions of car seats, blankets, and onesies went from shades of blue to pink. Wow, a girl. Daddy’s little girl, I love the sound of that.
She’s Daddy’s active, rambunctious little girl too.
Arms and legs flailed to and fro in the gray, splotchy image. This girl wouldn’t stay still for ten seconds. An image of a foot appeared, a hand, a face, and profiles from opposite sides of the screen. She’s over here…now she’s over there. Cart wheels and somersaults were performed with ease. No wonder it was so hard to get fix on her the first time the doctor looked for a heartbeat. My wife had yet to feel anything but flutters so far, but we both anticipate a lot more as she continues to grow. The kicks will come, and there will probably be a lot of them.
But we had more to go on than just old wives’ tales. Our own doctor, after last month’s appointment, chimed in with her confident proclamation that it’s a boy. She even went as far as saying she would put money on it in Vegas. Well after that assessment, how could we not be influenced? She is the expert! Ever since then we’ve been eyeing boys’ clothes and boy-themed bedding sets, while vainly trying to keep an open mind.
Good thing no money changed hands.
The enormously anticipated second ultrasound appointment put the kibosh on all of the rampant speculation. As we both silently expected to hear the confirmation announced at any minute, the tech dropped a surprise: IT’S A GIRL. Cue the sound effect of the record player needle being scratched against vinyl.
A girl? Not a boy? The tech explained the evidence, and it just goes to show that medical science gets to have the last laugh. My instant reaction was not disappointment (I truly didn’t care either way), but rather stunned excitement. Visions of car seats, blankets, and onesies went from shades of blue to pink. Wow, a girl. Daddy’s little girl, I love the sound of that.
She’s Daddy’s active, rambunctious little girl too.
Arms and legs flailed to and fro in the gray, splotchy image. This girl wouldn’t stay still for ten seconds. An image of a foot appeared, a hand, a face, and profiles from opposite sides of the screen. She’s over here…now she’s over there. Cart wheels and somersaults were performed with ease. No wonder it was so hard to get fix on her the first time the doctor looked for a heartbeat. My wife had yet to feel anything but flutters so far, but we both anticipate a lot more as she continues to grow. The kicks will come, and there will probably be a lot of them.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Cats in the Cradle
If you’re familiar with the Harry Chapin song you know that it’s a lyrically poignant and touching song about fatherhood. If you’re not, then check it out and listen closely to the story about a father’s regret about not being around sometimes to watch his son grow up, and then later in the song he laments that his adult son has become just as unavailable as he was for quality time together.
I bring this up because of the eerie coincidence of hearing this song on the radio yesterday as I went to breakfast with my dad. The last few months for him have been a rough go health wise due to his treatment for prostate cancer. After 6 weeks of chemotherapy, which fortunately didn’t have too many side effects other than general fatigue, he concluded his treatment with surgery to implant radioactive seeds that will help shrink his prostrate and eliminate the cancer.
For my brother and me, it’s been nerve-racking to watch. All the while doctors have kept us optimistic and my dad has been in good spirits even through the latest surgical procedure. I took him to the doctor’s office and stayed with him throughout the four hour surgery and recoup time. And then yesterday we topped it off by having breakfast together.
All the while I’ve felt a reinforcement of how fortunate I am to have father like mine. There were times when I was little he would have to go off on business trips, much like the father depicted in the Harry Chapin song, but overall through the years he has been there and been very supportive and invested in my upbringing. I’ve come to understand how much of a rarity that is today amongst my peers. Absent fathers are in abundance, and some goes as far as being completely unavailable and betray marriage vows and the obligations of fatherhood.
I’m lucky that my dad never did. He was a devoted husband for over 50 years until my mom passed away last August. During our quality time he reminisced about some of the places around the world he had been with my mom and I could tell in his words just how much he missed her. But his role as father is still something he cherishes, and that night he called me to thank me for having breakfast with him and everything else I did to be by his side during his ordeal.
“I've long since retired, my son's moved away/I called him up just the other day/
I said, "I'd like to see you if you don't mind"/He said, "I'd love to, Dad, if I can find the time/You see my new job's a hassle and kids have the flu/But it's sure nice talking to you, Dad/It's been sure nice talking to you"”
In my last blog entry I vented about poor examples of fathering and vowed not to be so negligent. While spending time with my dad it was reaffirmed how I have such a great role model to follow. I also want to make vow to spend more time him. It’s that kind of loving consideration that I hope my son or daughter takes with me someday.
I bring this up because of the eerie coincidence of hearing this song on the radio yesterday as I went to breakfast with my dad. The last few months for him have been a rough go health wise due to his treatment for prostate cancer. After 6 weeks of chemotherapy, which fortunately didn’t have too many side effects other than general fatigue, he concluded his treatment with surgery to implant radioactive seeds that will help shrink his prostrate and eliminate the cancer.
For my brother and me, it’s been nerve-racking to watch. All the while doctors have kept us optimistic and my dad has been in good spirits even through the latest surgical procedure. I took him to the doctor’s office and stayed with him throughout the four hour surgery and recoup time. And then yesterday we topped it off by having breakfast together.
All the while I’ve felt a reinforcement of how fortunate I am to have father like mine. There were times when I was little he would have to go off on business trips, much like the father depicted in the Harry Chapin song, but overall through the years he has been there and been very supportive and invested in my upbringing. I’ve come to understand how much of a rarity that is today amongst my peers. Absent fathers are in abundance, and some goes as far as being completely unavailable and betray marriage vows and the obligations of fatherhood.
I’m lucky that my dad never did. He was a devoted husband for over 50 years until my mom passed away last August. During our quality time he reminisced about some of the places around the world he had been with my mom and I could tell in his words just how much he missed her. But his role as father is still something he cherishes, and that night he called me to thank me for having breakfast with him and everything else I did to be by his side during his ordeal.
“I've long since retired, my son's moved away/I called him up just the other day/
I said, "I'd like to see you if you don't mind"/He said, "I'd love to, Dad, if I can find the time/You see my new job's a hassle and kids have the flu/But it's sure nice talking to you, Dad/It's been sure nice talking to you"”
In my last blog entry I vented about poor examples of fathering and vowed not to be so negligent. While spending time with my dad it was reaffirmed how I have such a great role model to follow. I also want to make vow to spend more time him. It’s that kind of loving consideration that I hope my son or daughter takes with me someday.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
So that's your idea of parenting??
I'm not a particularly nosey or condescending person--except when it comes to the driving skills displayed by some--but I guess because I'm an expectant father, I've begun to notice more the examples of parenting around me. Now I'll say right upfront that I am not an expert on the subject, and ultimately it is none of my business, but what I see sometimes is downright appalling.
It has taken painstaking effort for me to hold my tongue in these instances, and so I come to my blog to vent a little about what I have observed and shed some light on these "fine" examples of parenting:
Recently during a trip to get groceries, I observed a young boy who had to be around 4 or 5 years old sitting in the shopping cart bawling and hollering about cookies. His tantrum is loud and relentless, but the father pushing the cart not only ignores his pleas, he exacerbates the issue. He proceeds to playfully taunt the boy by offering up every cracker and wheat thin in the isle as if he fails to understand the boy's desire for cookies. Nice, you're a real comedy act pal. Except you're the only one in the entire store who thinks that's funny.
Father of the year number two is the guy I came across at a comic book store. He draws attention to himself first off by struggling to maneuver his baby stroller through the front door. After a lot of banging and thumping (which the baby I'm sure appreciates) he finally makes his way in and shoves the stroller off to one side while he steps over a good ten feet away so he can start perusing a display case. The stroller, which is clearly unattended while dad goes about his business, has a blanket covered over it so I can't confirm there is a child inside. But why would anyone go through such a hassle to enter a store with an empty stroller?
And last but not least, is a father I saw at Chipolte the other day. First of all he's got a cellphone glued to his ear while parking his honking SUV and blocking incoming traffic behind him. Then I see him walk in with his curious 2 year old boy by his side. The whole time the guy is going through the line ordering his food, and then plopping down to have lunch, the phone never leaves the side of his face. Meanwhile, the little boy is bumping into other customers and eventually slips off to the back patio to explore. His father does have the presence of mind to get up and reign the boy in, but still the phone is more attached to him than the child. I don't care how important the call is, you're with your kid, spend some time with him for heaven's sake!!
Okay, venting is done.
My overall point is, if you don't have the time, think it's such a hassle, an inconvenience, or a source of amusement, you're not ready to be a parent.
It has taken painstaking effort for me to hold my tongue in these instances, and so I come to my blog to vent a little about what I have observed and shed some light on these "fine" examples of parenting:
Recently during a trip to get groceries, I observed a young boy who had to be around 4 or 5 years old sitting in the shopping cart bawling and hollering about cookies. His tantrum is loud and relentless, but the father pushing the cart not only ignores his pleas, he exacerbates the issue. He proceeds to playfully taunt the boy by offering up every cracker and wheat thin in the isle as if he fails to understand the boy's desire for cookies. Nice, you're a real comedy act pal. Except you're the only one in the entire store who thinks that's funny.
Father of the year number two is the guy I came across at a comic book store. He draws attention to himself first off by struggling to maneuver his baby stroller through the front door. After a lot of banging and thumping (which the baby I'm sure appreciates) he finally makes his way in and shoves the stroller off to one side while he steps over a good ten feet away so he can start perusing a display case. The stroller, which is clearly unattended while dad goes about his business, has a blanket covered over it so I can't confirm there is a child inside. But why would anyone go through such a hassle to enter a store with an empty stroller?
And last but not least, is a father I saw at Chipolte the other day. First of all he's got a cellphone glued to his ear while parking his honking SUV and blocking incoming traffic behind him. Then I see him walk in with his curious 2 year old boy by his side. The whole time the guy is going through the line ordering his food, and then plopping down to have lunch, the phone never leaves the side of his face. Meanwhile, the little boy is bumping into other customers and eventually slips off to the back patio to explore. His father does have the presence of mind to get up and reign the boy in, but still the phone is more attached to him than the child. I don't care how important the call is, you're with your kid, spend some time with him for heaven's sake!!
Okay, venting is done.
My overall point is, if you don't have the time, think it's such a hassle, an inconvenience, or a source of amusement, you're not ready to be a parent.
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