Be Prepared

I have been reading lots of books about child care lately (lots and lots and lots). I figure I'm not going to have a heck of a lot of time after Baby is born to casually look at books, plus I might find the baby care book and buy it. Right now, the books I'm reading all come from the local library.

This weekend, our trip to the library resulted in us checking out the book "Be Prepared: A Practical Handbook for New Dads." It has actual, important information, like taking precautions to lower the risk of SIDS. And it takes that section quite seriously.

But you also get actual, important information -- like Baby pooping in the tub -- that's given with a bit more humor.

"At some point your baby will poop in the tub. Maybe it's a defense mechanism, like a squid inking. It's a disgusting and frustrating occurrence, but it's one of those parental rites of passage that officially confirm you as a dad."

Some of the information is silliness, like reading "Sports Illustrated" to your baby or using Baby as your wingman if you're a single dad, but overall the book has some sound advice. Like this passage referring to postpartum mood swings:

"Keep in mind that much of this behavior is beyond her control. Right after the birth, her hormone levels are bouncing around like Ping-Pong balls, playing havoc with her brain chemistry. So when you see her throwing breast pump parts across the living room, remember to cut her some slack."

Amazon.com readers give this book good ratings. Out of the 173 customer reviews, only 14 are less than five stars, with just three readers giving it two stars (and no one giving it only one star). These reviewers must have really expected a lot from a book with just 217 pages, calling it not helpful. I think it's helpful if Dad will read it. No, I wouldn't rely on this book as the only baby care book I'd consult -- or would let the S.O. consult -- but it's a good way to get Dads involved without overwhelming them.

Even in our enlightened age -- compared to my dad, who probably didn't know what a diaper looked like -- Dads generally are still less involved in the childcare than Moms are. I think the S.O. would find something useful in this book, where the other books I've brought home just seem to intimidate him.

Most-Amazing Sister-in-law

See this lady here?

I am naming her Most-Amazing Sister-in-law. Yesterday, she sent me a message, telling me she had I talked to talked to my brother and my nephew and asked if they would mind giving me a few of the baby items my mom made for my nephew. My sister-in-law has kept everything Grandma made him. She says, "I still have lots of other things she made him which I could never part with. I just think it might be important to you to have something from your mom."

Now, I know pregnancy hormones can send emotions all over the place, but this message made me cry -- in a very good way. I am so touched that this very sentimental woman -- who loved my mom almost as much as if she were her own mother -- would be willing to part with a few hand-made baby items so that my son could have something handmade by his grandmother.

My little boy will never get to meet his Grandma Louise in person, but thanks to Most-Amazing Aunt, he will be able to have a little piece of her with him. I don't think words can truly express how grateful I am to her -- and to my brother and nephew -- for this incredible act of kindness.

I am most amazed.

43 years ago today ...

I was born, and it was the coldest day on record, according to my parents. For as long as I can remember, I've heard about this -- either from Mom or (more recently) Dad. And sure enough, Dad called this morning to wish me a happy birthday and tell me about the weather on that long ago day.

Your humble blogger, aged 1 year

It was so cold, he told me, that I had to be put in an incubator to warm up. It's kind of neat to hear the story about the day I was born, but Mom never really shared more about that day. I don't know if it was a difficult labor. I was a pretty big baby -- 8 pounds, 10 ounces -- but I was her fourth. (Weird fact about my family: My oldest brother was premature, weighing just 4 pounds, 13 ounces, but the next two weighed 8 pounds, 8 ounces and 8 pounds, 9 ounces. I guess she was building up to her big baby.)

I don't have any sisters so I don't really have a female relative to ask about her labor. My sisters-in-law had a mixed bag of experiences -- and I blame my nieces' and nephews' big heads (oh, it's fine, they know I love them). I really wish I knew more about my mom's experiences. I know that drugs were different back then. Mothers weren't really supposed to experience childbirth, so maybe it wouldn't help to know what she went through.

Mostly, I just wish I could talk to her today and thank her for going through it for me.

Just don't call me late for dinner

Did you hear about the woman who is letting Facebook name her baby? 

If Alpinelli allows FabFind to help name her child via Facebook, the mom will receive a year of free deals, an estimated $40,000 value. FabFind even made a custom app where people can submit names and vote for their faves.

OK. I'll admit $40,000 worth of loot is pretty tempting, and the leading names are not awful (Aria, Melania and Sophia). Still, I'm just not sure it's worth it. What if the winning name was Rover or Miss Poopy Pants? (According to this story, the parents have to prove they actually used the winning name. The same story mentions that other names in the top 10 included Parsia, Eudaimonia and Fabricia.) That's pretty scary stuff to saddle your child with, in my very humble opinion.

Of course, I say this as someone who has NOT been offered 40 grand to let others name my baby. So, easy for me to say I wouldn't do it.

The S.O. has some Native American blood, and it gets me thinking about how some cultures don't name babies until they've earned a name. In which case, Mr. Poopy Pants may not be so far off the mark.

What do you think? Would you sell the right to name your baby?

Week 24: That's Bananas!

This week my unborn baby is about the size of a banana, so says my email newsletter from Fit Pregnancy. They also say, "It's time to schedule an appointment for your glucose screen, which checks for gestational diabetes; it is conducted between weeks 24 and 28."

I am not looking forward to the glucose screen because they accidentally ordered this test during my very first visit to my OB (at five and a half weeks). Those of you who've had this test know how pleasant tasting the goo they have you drink is. (Hint: It's not at all pleasant tasting.) Then you get to sit in the waiting room for an hour -- reading old magazines and/or watching "Regis and Kelly" -- to see how you react to the onslaught of sugar. I'm also a bit nervous because I have had a raging sweet tooth (especially over the holidays) and hope it hasn't caused major problems.

They tell me too that baby's skin is starting to become less translucent "as pigment is deposited, and it looks wrinkly because her body is making her skin more quickly than it makes the fat to pad underneath it. Your baby's unique hand- and footprints are forming." No getting away with burglary now, kiddo.

The bump is definitely sticking out there now, but I still think most people just think I'm getting chunky. So far, I've been pretty lucky to not experience some of the things that could be happening -- like heartburn, muscle aches, sore feet, and dizziness -- but I'm not so naive as to think I'm getting off scot-free. Besides, I've had my share of other stuff, like restless legs, achy ligaments and being bone tired.

I suppose I need to get used to feeling tired all the time. I don't expect that will change for a while.

More practice

I really think my dog is afraid I need practice being a good parent. Back in November, she had a little incident that tested the S.O. and me. Then, last week, she decided that a trip to the emergency vet would give us a little taste of what it's like to have a sick kid.

The S.O. and I had headed up to ski country -- skiing for him, reading and relaxing for me -- for a couple days. We left the pooch in the very capable hands of our neighbors. They have watched her many times for us in the past, including during our recent babymoon. So, I know it wasn't their fault the dog decided to hurt herself.

As I walked up to the neighbors' door, I could see through the window the teenage daughter rushing around. I rang the bell, and she opened the door to tell me, "Ripley got a cut. We're cleaning it now."

I took one look at the cut and got a bit queasy. It wasn't big but it was deep and really gross. I told the S.O. to call our vet to see if there was any chance he could squeeze us in at 4:30 the day before the day before a holiday. We haven't the best vet, but even he couldn't pull that one off. So, off to the emergency vet for us. Luckily, Ripley wasn't bleeding much and really didn't seem to be in too much pain, but the wound was open and yucky, and we had no idea what had caused it -- a rusty nail, an animal, a stick.

We got in right away but they had to keep her for several hours, so we left her for the evening and headed home to worry wait. I guess that's a major difference: If it had been our kid, we wouldn't have left him at the ER and gone home to our comfy living room.

We picked her up around 10 p.m., took her home, gave her medicine and put her to bed. She has about five stitches on her right foreleg and will probably have a lovely new scar, but otherwise she was really fine -- a little groggy from the anesthesia and a little put out about having to be away from us for another evening.

We don't know how she got the laceration but I kind of suspect it was a test of our parenting skills. We passed.

Happy New Year!

May 2011 bring us all health, happiness and prosperity!