Lesson Learned: Enjoy This Time

As the clock ticks towards the arrival of our little girl, there has been a battening down of the hatches around here. To be exact, Kathy is at 33 weeks, meaning we have about 6 weeks left. Now that furniture has been moved out, things boxed up and stored or thrown away, closets cleared, walls painted, more furniture moved in, decorations put up on walls, we are now at a point of contentment where we can peacefully lay in the grass and stare into the sky and daydream about what's to come. In doing so, I find myself reflecting on the last 26 months of fatherhood boot camp. The lessons learned. If we are to believe the Evolutionists, I won't make the same mistakes that I did before. We'll see.

"Know Your Baby's Cry"

Every baby book ever printed has pages and pages about this myth. That somehow a baby will change his or her's cry pitch or frequency for hunger, need of a diaper change, a rash on the bum, or for the home reveal during "Extreme Home Makeover". I never knew my baby's cry, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. When I heard a cry - and they all sounded the same - it meant something on a check-list needed to be tended to: a diaper change, a bottle, he's gassy, etc. I could hear a cry from afar and guess what it was, and sometimes be right, and assume that this is what most parents do until whines and whimpers come in to truly distinguish one cry from another.

Pacifier Etiquette/Weaning

Doesn't really apply when your kid won't take a pacifier. Kole never did. And it's not like we didn't try. For two weeks straight it was first up on the Try This chart, and each time he took it for about 5 seconds before spitting it out and screaming louder, even more pissed off than before. It was a bad joke - a nipple with nothing behind it or coming through it. Lessons learned from the pacifier? Nothing. I guess we'll try again.

Spit-Up/Throw-Up Maintenance

Again, we'll be dealing with this pretty much like newbies. Kole was a great dry burper, like an old whino. We can probably count on our fingers the number of times he has barfed up anything projectile. We have no wacky videos of big spit-up bouts, not even aftermath shots where formula, milk or anything else is puked up on clothes. Not that it hasn't happened, but it's been a rarity. Up to now we've had two major incidents of picking up Kole's poop off the carpet, yet I can't think of a major blow-up out the mouth. Actually his biggest puke job to date was at a restaurant - barfing up macaroni and cheese all over Kathy's chicken parmesan at Candelite Inn.

Changing Diapers Will Make Me Think Twice About Eating Guacamole

My friend and mentor, Bill Land, has always told me this. Any time we're in the vicinity of Tex-Mex, as far as Bill is concerned, guacamole might as well be sewer rat poached in warthog urine. He said he's been that way since changing his first baby diaper. Could never look at guacamole the same ever since. I'll proudly say that I've changed countless diapers of Kole. Not that it will ever hold a candle to what Kathy does, but I've done my share - including some chunky, green poopies that has not wavered my fandom of guacamole one bit.

We learned plenty. Now the trick gets a little trickier, since we can't put our entire focus on this one. We'll have to balance time between our new little girl and with Kole. We do know many of the ropes, but so much of that early on will be dependent on how well Kathy can sleep. Kathy has many strengths and gifts, but one of them is not falling asleep quickly, even when dead tired. Napping between feedings early on is not much of an option. So, hopefully the breast pump will produce for me a good reserve to work with.

"If you have never been hated by your child you have never been a parent." -Bette Davis

We'll see. It's exciting. Really, it's a lot like skydiving. In my experience, the best part of all was inching towards the open door knowing I was moments from being out there, while watching the jumpers ahead of me instantly wide-eyed drunk with adrenaline, just before they disappeared into a speck faster than a bad idea at last call. The plane is in a "drop zone" and everyone has to vacate the plane in a matter of seconds so the plane can nose-dive down and land well ahead of the first jumper. From the moment your body is stacked up with the other jumpers in a hollowed twin-engine prop for the ascent up to 14,500 feet until the moment your feet are at the edge of the plane ready to jump is less than 30 seconds. No time for high-five rituals or speeches. Everyone out of the plane, pronto! It was the most magical 30-second adrenaline rush known to man. The climax being that five-second moment when I was positioned at the door, wind blowing mercilessly, and the only salient thought I can remember having is Holy shit, I'm going to do this! Chickening out was never an option for me. But after hours and hours of big-talk and wonderment, I was now ready to jump and hurl myself towards the earth at 125 mph for about 45 seconds. It's every drug known to man, a thousand roller coasters, love and lust, all rolled into one massive head rush. And you jump.

Then comes the work. Checking your altimeter, making sure you don't commit the sin of forgetting when to safely deploy the primary parachute. In my case, even hamming it up for the guy videotaping my jump was a bit of a chore, distracting enough from just enjoying the free-fall. It was like the 45 seconds was gone in five. It was the most fun I've ever had in my life, but make no mistake it was nerve-wrecking and undeniably concentrated work. Fun had its place, but forgetting about responsibilities had dire consequences. That's why I always remember more fondly that 30-seconds of deaf, hunched-over foot shuffling in a big metal tube before the actual jump. That's where the real rush was. That was pure adrenaline without the fear or concentration or training recall.

That's where we are now. There's work ahead. It's work and responsibility mixed with a ton of fun, but no one can deny that it is work, nor the consequences of not doing the parenting work well. It's a big responsibility. But for now, we are inching towards the door, letting the adrenaline flow.