<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8759201114554584929</id><updated>2011-07-07T21:16:17.819-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Confessions of a new dad</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05217731015772577494</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/S6oIDAGiL0I/AAAAAAAAAC4/Ss2GuuFScGo/S220/IMG_1396.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8759201114554584929.post-7788557481677952644</id><published>2010-03-24T05:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-25T04:05:41.840-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Message to my daughter on her 1st birthday</title><content type='html'>Wow, where to begin... A year ago, March 25&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; - 2009, was the single greatest day of your dad's (and likely you mom's) life. You finally came into the world after 9+ months of being your mom's "little" parasite. You stayed in there a little longer then we had hoped but I guess mom made it pretty comfy in there for you. You just needed a bit more time to cook and it looks like what they say is true - "you can't rush perfection" and "good things come to those who wait". Good things is clearly a gross understatement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if I will truly ever be able to explain how much of an impact your arrival had on my life but I am going to try. The very first time I held you in my arms I wept with a happiness I don't know if I have ever felt before. Meeting and marrying your mom was a close second but holding all 7lbs of you that afternoon made me feel like a superhero. Not because I had helped create another living person but because you made me feel like I could move mountains to keep you safe from harm. We had a special bond right from the start, you and I, and I knew right away that daddy's little girl had him hooked. I walked the halls of the hospital all night and day to get you to sleep while mom rested and from then on we were our own little dynamic duo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a rough year on dad (and mom) on a personal level and you were that little beacon of happiness everyday. After a crappy day at work, at a job I was unhappy doing, you were the toothless smile at the end of the day that always made my heart melt. You were (are) the driving force that made me look at "life" and decide that I had to make a change for me, for mom, and more importantly for you... By the time you read this on your own your dad will be a fire fighter and I (we) have you to thank for that. Though mom was a big help in deciding, you were the catalyst that made me realize that I needed and deserved to be happy in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Between you and mom, the two of you make me want to be a better man, husband and most important, father. Now I know that somewhere down the line I will screw up and you'll probably "hate" dad at some point and slam a few doors in frustration (if genetics prevail). Just know that it all comes from a good place, a loving and caring place and maybe in the future you'll see that you're always daddy's little girl...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you with all my heart Brooklyn and knowing that no matter how up and down work gets or life gets or how exhausting the day-to-day can be, knowing that I have your smile and those chubby cheeks to come home to makes it all worth while... Mom's pretty cool too...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday angel, love always...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8759201114554584929-7788557481677952644?l=confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/feeds/7788557481677952644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2010/03/message-to-my-daughter-on-her-1st.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/7788557481677952644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/7788557481677952644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2010/03/message-to-my-daughter-on-her-1st.html' title='Message to my daughter on her 1st birthday'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05217731015772577494</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/S6oIDAGiL0I/AAAAAAAAAC4/Ss2GuuFScGo/S220/IMG_1396.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8759201114554584929.post-7372863845713919469</id><published>2010-01-11T12:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-24T05:35:42.650-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jan. 10th, 2010 - Save me Jebus!</title><content type='html'>On this day in 2010 we Baptized our by girl Brooklyn. It is a miracle that the gates of hell didn't open and swallow your dad whole as he set foot in a church... I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You were an angel the whole day. Surrounded by family and loved ones, Great Grandparents and Godparents we watched you be a little rock star the entire service. On any given &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Sunday&lt;/span&gt; the church would do roughly 3-5 baptisms but on this day there was just one - you. This gave you free reign to unleash the cuteness for all to see. You coo-ed at the right moments, you hardly made a peep, you ate cookies and played in the Holy Water. You even got paraded around by your dad for the entire congregation to bask in your awesomeness. You were &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;unnecessarily&lt;/span&gt; showered with gifts, most of which had some very large significance which both mom and dad will gladly explain to you at some point. The bottom line is we always knew you were a little angel but now "the man upstairs" gave you "his" seal of approval.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really just wanted to thank you for blessing mom and dad with the best gift of all - you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love Dad   &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;XOXOXOXO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8759201114554584929-7372863845713919469?l=confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/feeds/7372863845713919469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2010/01/jan-10th-2010-save-me-jebus.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/7372863845713919469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/7372863845713919469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2010/01/jan-10th-2010-save-me-jebus.html' title='Jan. 10th, 2010 - Save me Jebus!'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05217731015772577494</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/S6oIDAGiL0I/AAAAAAAAAC4/Ss2GuuFScGo/S220/IMG_1396.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8759201114554584929.post-7658060388886809586</id><published>2010-01-07T06:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T07:37:13.291-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas, Happy New Years and rounding third heading home</title><content type='html'>We are at the 3/4 mark in year one of the Brooklyn's life and a few things have become evident. First and foremost is... If you let them, your child will work you over. They will test your resolve to see how much they can get away with and how much you'll facilitate that. Hard to believe I am sure, especially while you look down at your new bundle of joy and they can't even lift their own noggin'. It will happen and you may not even notice it happening. Here is what I mean...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Year's - adults night right? Not so in the case of our little one. Despite countless bottles and hours of play time and even a drive around the block with mom our little one was just not having it. No sleep for Brooklyn. So we conceded and she rang in her first New Year's with mom and dad and friends. I reckon she'd have outlasted all of us if given the opportunity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now lets jump back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas - though too young to really understand, our little trouble maker figured out right quick that tissue paper is awesome!! The crinkle, the ease at which it tears and last but not least how good it tastes. It must. She must have tried time after time to ingest these little shards of white and red and green! She was great through all the running around, bundle ups, lack of naps and constant schedule shuffling. We really couldn't have asked for a better baby. Next year should really be a blast.. My only words of wisdom on this front is as follows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;When you have a baby make everyone come to you!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not always possible but if you can swing it make it happen. In this day and age of multiple parents with multiple marriages and extended families it would be well worth your while to find out what works best for you and yours and then open it up to the rest of your family. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Lesson&lt;/span&gt; learned. But do what you need to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we round the corner towards year one of Brooklyn's life I do know this above all else. Being a dad is the single most amazing accomplishment and the most challenging thing I will ever do. Thankfully we were given a truly incredible little girl. Now not everyone is blessed with a "good" baby. They come in all shapes and all sizes with all their own little quirks and nuances. But, if you have a good teammate - spouse, significant other, etc. - then your chance of survival will grow exponentially. Work together and you'll be fine. If that's not in the card for you then try and establish a good solid support system around you. Parents, cousins, aunts/uncles and so on. They are great tools to have in your arsenal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Above all else, take the time to stop and enjoy the process of their evolution. The crawling, the walking, the discoveries... It goes by so damn fast you might miss some pretty cool stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8759201114554584929-7658060388886809586?l=confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/feeds/7658060388886809586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2010/01/merry-christmas-happy-new-years-and.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/7658060388886809586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/7658060388886809586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2010/01/merry-christmas-happy-new-years-and.html' title='Merry Christmas, Happy New Years and rounding third heading home'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05217731015772577494</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/S6oIDAGiL0I/AAAAAAAAAC4/Ss2GuuFScGo/S220/IMG_1396.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8759201114554584929.post-4296356248179956853</id><published>2009-12-15T10:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T18:30:01.636-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Listen to the woman - how to save yourself some frustration</title><content type='html'>Okay so we are going to go back in time just a wee bit to a time when babies are fresh from the oven and worlds have been turned upside down. Here is a simple phrase (from "White Men Can't Jump) &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;that will&lt;/span&gt; save you a good deal of grief - "Listen to the woman". In the context of the movie it was simple; listen to your woman/wife - really listen (thanks Wesley Snipes). In your new reality of Dad and husband it means something similar but different (Huh?). If your "baby momma" is the same as mine some things will become obvious very quickly and that is this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They've read books, they've gone to websites, they've gone to doctors appointments and they've had countless "dates'"with their girlfriends who are also "baby mamma's" or "baby mamma's to-be."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What that means is a few things. They know things you wouldn't have thought of in your wildest dreams. That also means they know things they wouldn't have thought of in &lt;strong&gt;THEIR&lt;/strong&gt; wildest dreams too (Huh?). So lets attack this query last thing first, first thing last shall we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a result of the aforementioned mentioned "mom research and development" they have inundated their new mom brains with everything from &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;time lines&lt;/span&gt; to feeding schedules to formula/diaper recon, serious black ops stuff. These tie into the "listen" part. What they've also done is "mom R&amp;amp;D" on every possible ailment known to man. Which means if your little one sneezes mom goes through her now extensive &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Rolodex&lt;/span&gt; of possibilities. They become &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;dermatological&lt;/span&gt; ninjas and they will know things about baby stool &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;that will&lt;/span&gt; blow your mind. She will go a little nutty, she can't help it. Mom-brain takes over and it's something you can plan for or pretend to understand. Just be there for them when they use the cream from Australia for diaper rash and the soap from Costa Rica for &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;cradle&lt;/span&gt; cap and the all natural syrup that helps teething (okay this stuff rocks, it's called &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Camillia&lt;/span&gt; or something. Get it!!!). You can listen to the crazy stuff too but just realize that its mostly mom's being mom's (parents in general, you'll likely get sucked, you can't help it).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What you need to hear is a) all the time they spent preparing for your little one that will b) save you a lot of work. They laid the ground work, just follow their lead. What diapers, where to get the cheapest formula, what size &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;onesies&lt;/span&gt;, the "how-to" on diaper changes and the really cool stuff like: "when she gonna walk? when she gonna talk? teeth?" and so on. They are a fountain of knowledge at your finger tips so the more you pay attention the easier it'll be. The easier it'll be for you to become the dad you want to be. I am the dad I am because of the work my wife put in prior to Brooklyn being born and because I payed attention to the key things (also because I wanted to be but you know what I mean). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heed the words of the great Mr. Snipes and listen to the woman....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope that helps.. Cheers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8759201114554584929-4296356248179956853?l=confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/feeds/4296356248179956853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/12/listen-to-woman-how-to-save-yourself.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/4296356248179956853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/4296356248179956853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/12/listen-to-woman-how-to-save-yourself.html' title='Listen to the woman - how to save yourself some frustration'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05217731015772577494</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/S6oIDAGiL0I/AAAAAAAAAC4/Ss2GuuFScGo/S220/IMG_1396.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8759201114554584929.post-3578254198618804041</id><published>2009-11-24T17:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-24T13:38:35.888-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Crawling - The evolution of "the squigs"</title><content type='html'>Just to clear up the title as I suspect I have never refered to Brooklyn this way but here is a quick rundown on her various nicknames... handles, if you will&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Squiggle Bottoms&lt;br /&gt;- The Squigs: purely a derivative of the aforementioned&lt;br /&gt;- Bro-Ro: a clever take on Brooklyn Rose using the J.Lo template&lt;br /&gt;- B-Rabbit: not too sure why I called her this.. May have just watched 8 Mile or something&lt;br /&gt;- B (pretty self explanitory I hope)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there are undoubtedly more but there's the back story, I digress.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The "wee" one has now evolved into a full fledged crawling ninja. Beyond that she has also figured out that she can pull herself up to standing using her walnut crushing pipes "o" death. Needless to say the bottom 1/3 (maybe even 1/2) of the Christmas tree will be "sans" decoration. Let the baby proofing begin! Baby gates and plug covers and drawer stops and god knows what else we'll need to do in order to keep the "squigs" at bay. Though it took her awhile to get the forward motion concept, now that she's got it down pat there is no stopping her. Which means "Ky" is on amber alert at all times now. She's no longer content sitting in the middle of the room playing with her toys. She is the Sherlock Holmes of the bottom 8 inches of every floor in our house! Pick it up, inspect it, jam it in my mouth, confirm or deny edibility, wait for reaction from mom, feed item to hairy four-legged thing, disregard item and move on to the next thing. Rinse and repeat....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one thing that we've both noticed is that there is a definite need for someone to invent a swiffer sleeper/onesie. Let me spell this out for you a little. High shed dog vs crawling baby = hairy cookie cover little hands and a little girl who looks like she's wearing a sweater vest. NOT GOOD! So where is the Slap Chop guy or Ron Popeil to invent this when you need them... Too busy "setting it and forgetting it" I guess. Since the dog won't stop shedding and Brookyn won't stop crawling and nobody has created said "Swiffer Sleeper," for now "Ky" (and to a much lesser degree myself), we'll just have to get used to having a vacuum in or near our hands. That being said, therein lies another tiny issue. No longer is the dog free to roam the house unpestered, to lay in the middle of a rug and catch a few winks, to not have baby hands in my water and food dishes. No no. Brooklyn Holmes will see to none of that. Thank god his temperment is what it is, though with any luck Brooklyn learn to let sleeping dogs lie and not let sleeping dogs have clumps of hair ripped out on his back. At least she can wash her hands in the water dish.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the best to those who are embarking on this stage of parenting, it is exhausting and amazing all wrapped up in one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8759201114554584929-3578254198618804041?l=confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/feeds/3578254198618804041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/crawling-evolution-of-squigs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/3578254198618804041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/3578254198618804041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/crawling-evolution-of-squigs.html' title='Crawling - The evolution of &quot;the squigs&quot;'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05217731015772577494</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/S6oIDAGiL0I/AAAAAAAAAC4/Ss2GuuFScGo/S220/IMG_1396.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8759201114554584929.post-3025399512424328876</id><published>2009-11-02T03:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T09:09:25.453-08:00</updated><title type='text'>1st tooth, 1st foods, and 1st Halloween</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;1ST TOOTH&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was a big week in the life of the wee one. Not only is she a week older but is now sporting her very own shiny white nub of a tooth. It broke through the other day and will undoubtedly spur on some dental companions soon enough, much to the chagrin of Brooklyn. Though she handled the whole teething process like a champ she was pretty unhappy for a couple of days. But to put it in perspective, as I've been told, if we had to deal with teething at any older age then newborn we would need some hardcore pain &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;meds&lt;/span&gt;... So I guess be glad you can't remember. Having said that, if I thought the drool was bad months ago, this makes that look like a joke. Poor "Ky" does more laundry now then ever before, Brooklyn just soaks through shirt after shirt, sleeper after sleeper. I am surprised she hasn't dried up like a raisin, where does she store all that fluid???&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;1ST FOODS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div&gt;Although she's been eating food, and I use the term loosely, for quite some time now (several weeks) this is the first I've mentioned it. It really is something to watch how much they change as they move from "boob juice" to pablum aka gruel to pureed fruits and veg. It certainly impacted her digestive system. If I thought the bouquet that Brooklyn was laying down early on in her life was bad... WOW! Not only has the aroma been amplified but she now has this amazing technicolour &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;dreamcoat&lt;/span&gt; thing happening in her little "b.m.'s." She is more and more like a little person. I guess it should come as no surprise however that a change in food means an adjustment period for "B's" digestive system and given what this food looks like it is no wonder. The rice/oat/wheat pablum crud looks like gruel, smells like paper &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;mache&lt;/span&gt; and after it has a few minutes to "set" could be used as an industrial strength adhesive. No wonder the little one struggles to let freedom reign every now and again. Much like everything else our little angel took to eating food like she'd been doing it for years. The occassional sweet potatoe mustache and green bean eye liner for "B" but otherwise the target is hit every time. What a blast to see their expressions the first time they eat something new - they lack the tact we have when trying something new. The squished up faces, the spitting it out, the smacking of lips - Hilarious!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;1ST HALLOWEEN&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, not that I would consider this to be Brooklyn's first real Halloween because lets be honest Halloween without trick or treating and boat loads of teeth rotting candy is like a beer commercial without bad acting and scantily clad &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;pornstars&lt;/span&gt;, er, models.. So this being her first prelude to Halloween the little one was dressed up as a bumblebee. If you are anything like me you are thinking Bumblebee, sweet!!! Transformers!! Not so. She was just a regular bumblebee but having said that, she was easily the cutest damn bumblebee you've ever seen. And I do mean cute: &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402090342841690194" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/SvgUi5mlqFI/AAAAAAAAABw/kYQn9CeCq_w/s320/IMG_1154.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;* I am the cutest "B" you ever did see*&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;At this point I would like to explain the concept of dressing a baby up in a Halloween costume despite the fact that it won't be used for the aforementioned trick and/or treating. The only reason my little munchkin is/was subjected to this punishment is so that grandparents (more overly grandmothers - love you) could fawn over there little pride and joy. It was also so "Ky" and the rest of the mom's in the area can round up all the babies and have a group costumed baby &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;jamboroo&lt;/span&gt;. These poor little kids, except "B" who is such a ham that she just played up the costume for the camera, just were not happy campers. If any of them were able to talk I am sure they'd say:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; "Mom/Dad, you think you can just dress me up in this ridiculous outfit and get away with it? I am gonna stay up all night crying and I might even squeeze out a big smelly poop for you! I'm Rick James bitch!!!" &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But I guess our parents tortured us the same way so it is our god given right to return the favour to our kids and they shall do the same to theirs. But beware the vengeful baby, you never know when they might get that crazy look in their eye..&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cheers.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8759201114554584929-3025399512424328876?l=confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/feeds/3025399512424328876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/1st-tooth-1st-foods-and-1st-halloween.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/3025399512424328876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/3025399512424328876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/11/1st-tooth-1st-foods-and-1st-halloween.html' title='1st tooth, 1st foods, and 1st Halloween'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05217731015772577494</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/S6oIDAGiL0I/AAAAAAAAAC4/Ss2GuuFScGo/S220/IMG_1396.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/SvgUi5mlqFI/AAAAAAAAABw/kYQn9CeCq_w/s72-c/IMG_1154.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8759201114554584929.post-855907698592287003</id><published>2009-10-14T04:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T10:53:26.356-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One little phrase turns grown man to mush - news at 11</title><content type='html'>Well now here is something I didn't expect or at least expect to see happen for quite sometime. Thanksgiving weekend 2009, six plus months into being "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;dada&lt;/span&gt;" the little one drops a bombshell on me by saying those very words. My little angel not once, not twice, but has uttered "hi &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;dada&lt;/span&gt;" several times. It is now her phrase of choice. Now to be fair she also calls the dog "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;dada&lt;/span&gt;" and just about everything else she can get those chubby little hands on. So here is the rub....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did nothing to solicit "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;dada&lt;/span&gt;", there was no shameless self promotion on my part. This in turn means my wife is now "second fiddle" to "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;dada&lt;/span&gt;" or maybe just feels that way. This of course has no validity at all. "Ky" did a fantastic job of being an equal opportunity name promoter but unfortunately "mama" wasn't in the cards just yet. Or so it would seem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that doesn't mean that I didn't take a certain degree of pride in her saying that four letter word and I am certainly not saying that the voice inside my head wasn't saying "YEAH BABY". I do feel a certain degree of, not sure of the words but perhaps remorse, that Brooklyn didn't say "mama" first. "Ky" has done so much in her overall development that it would have been a really nice reward from the wee one for her to say "mama" first. I know and "Ky" knows that it will of course happen before either of us know it and before too long she will be telling all sorts of fun little anecdotes. "Hey Dad, did you know that bees and dogs can smell fear?" "Hey Mom, did you know that your foot is the same length as your forearm?" "Hey Mom... Mom.... MOM, MOM, MOM, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;MOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM&lt;/span&gt; !!!!!!!!! You can almost hear the pulse of the vein bulging on our respective heads. Regardless of the pending onslaught of questions it is such a rush to see her attempt to formulate words. You can see in her eyes as she processes her surroundings that "I am trying to say this guys, so listen up goddamn it!! I don't want to have to repeat myself."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So with Phase 1: learning to talk (and talk back), well under way it shouldn't be too long before Phase 2: I am now mobile bitches (so move the low stuff off the shelves) to rear it's ugly head. She is already doing the shuffle, roll and spin so the crawling and walking ain't too far behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's only terrifying!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8759201114554584929-855907698592287003?l=confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/feeds/855907698592287003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/10/one-little-phrase-turns-grown-man-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/855907698592287003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/855907698592287003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/10/one-little-phrase-turns-grown-man-to.html' title='One little phrase turns grown man to mush - news at 11'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05217731015772577494</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/S6oIDAGiL0I/AAAAAAAAAC4/Ss2GuuFScGo/S220/IMG_1396.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8759201114554584929.post-8206071707563083567</id><published>2009-10-05T13:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T06:07:50.777-07:00</updated><title type='text'>8 Lessons all dads should teach</title><content type='html'>First off I want to say that I didn't create this list but found it informative so I thought I'd pass it on. I will however paraphrase (see: dumb it down) for all dads, myself included.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Words are valuable&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be sure to speak up - your kids are listening. Use big words, even if they are unfamiliar to your child. Evidently they learn a lot purely based on the context in which it's used.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**Personal addition: I also firmly believe that you should talk to your baby as a person. Ease up on the goo goo gaa gaa talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tantrums earn you nothing&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This also applies to 30 year old men too (taking a look in the mirror Adam). Sound advice. Evidently when your anxiety visibly rises you add fuel to the fire. And giving in to the tantrum is positive reinforcement and will in fact encourage more bad behaviour. Don't ignore it, just don't get rattled but be calm and attentive (easier said then done of course).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Competition leads to confidence&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kids as young as 4 (I've got a long way to go before that) start to compete with their parents. "Race you to the car, dad"... Wrestling on the couch... The harmless stuff. Roll with it and let them win - a lot and then slowly over time ramp it up so the have to work harder for the "W". It helps build confidence and strength (muscles and all) which can help them avoid being bullied too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quitting is hard&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Show your kids the pain of quitting and they won't make those kind of decisions lightly. If your child says a school project is too hard and that he/she wants to give up, that's okay. But make them tell the teacher they're quitting and take whatever grade is appropriate. They will likely stick it out... A lesson I wish I had learned a long time ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Other people's feelings matter&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's easier to connect with other kids and others in general if you can learn to understand their perspective, so nurture that instinct in you child. A good starting point is your child's own feelings.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fights can be resolved&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Unless one kid is hanging another out of a window or giving them a "swirly", don't say a word. As soon as you get involved your child no longer cares about the solution. They only try persuading you to their side.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Independence is earned&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;When your kids ask to stay later at a friends house ask you child what time would work for them. Then ask them why. This still allows you the opportunity to say yes or no depending on the answer but still gives them the freedom and responsibility.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Success requires focus&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Perhaps you don't wish for a prodigy but our competitive society would suggest otherwise. Make sure your kids know your expectations. Praise improvement first. Learn to go through one door first and many others will open for you. Try going through five at once and you'll go nowhere.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Again, I thought the article had some interesting points so I thought I'd share them. Undoubtedly raising a child is something far more organic and depends entirely on the child as well as you - the parent. Take the tips for what they are worth of course. Happy parenting&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cheers&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Article provided by: Men's Health magazine Oct. 09&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8759201114554584929-8206071707563083567?l=confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/feeds/8206071707563083567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/10/8-lessons-all-dads-should-teach.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/8206071707563083567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/8206071707563083567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/10/8-lessons-all-dads-should-teach.html' title='8 Lessons all dads should teach'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05217731015772577494</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/S6oIDAGiL0I/AAAAAAAAAC4/Ss2GuuFScGo/S220/IMG_1396.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8759201114554584929.post-6106118526735009891</id><published>2009-10-05T08:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T06:47:55.693-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cute/cute vs. Ugly/cute...</title><content type='html'>Perhaps starting with a little math refresher might help to illustrate my point. Back in the day you learned the following "math-ism"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) positive x positive = positive&lt;br /&gt;2) positive x negative = negative&lt;br /&gt;3) negative x negative = positive&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* made no sense but you go along with it because that's what your teacher told you*&lt;br /&gt;So how this plays into what I am talking about is...... actually just hold on for a sec. Let me start by saying that no matter what, when all babies are born they ain't cute. There, I said it. Somebody had to. They are purple, covered in blood and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;vernix&lt;/span&gt; (a waxy or cheese like, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;yah&lt;/span&gt; that's right cheese like, coating covering your baby), their head is all misshaped, their eyes are all &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;goopy&lt;/span&gt; and so on. After all you wouldn't look so hot if you were floating in water for 9 months either. So here is where the debate now begins....&lt;br /&gt;All parents think that there baby is cute without fail and will proceed to take countless pictures and videos and show them off without hesitation or post them on &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;facebook&lt;/span&gt; for the world to see. &lt;strong&gt;GUILTY&lt;/strong&gt;. Now having said that, not all you parents are right. Some of you out there, and you may not know who you are, are looking through your own version of baby "beer goggles." It's true whether you like it or not. Here is where that math thing comes in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just because your partner is attractive and you are attractive and one drunken night things got a little out of hand and 9 months later you have a baby doesn't mean that your two "positives" equal a cute baby.... See, math isn't always right! The same theory can go the other way too. Always wondered how two "negative" parents equal a "positive" baby. I have seen it, witnessed first hand and still can't believe that it works. Sometimes the equation works, sometimes your genes forget to "carry the one".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Part two of this theory will help put the minds of some parents at ease. To be fair, there is in fact two kinds of cute. There is cute/cute, which means your baby is as close to Gerber cute as you can get and then there is ugly/cute which means you don't show a picture of your baby to anybody prior to their morning coffee but you do still get the mandatory "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;awwww&lt;/span&gt;, he/she is so cute."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FYI, my baby girl is cute/cute and I don't care what anyone says..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 180px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389081632017606146" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/SsndMRX95gI/AAAAAAAAABY/LhnkpYbNSpY/s320/IMG_1050.JPG" /&gt; **Sidebar: at no point should you ever compare your baby to another baby in my opinion. First off - the aforementioned baby "beer goggles", you don't necessarily see what anyone else sees. You see cute - I may see Mr. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Furley&lt;/span&gt; from Three's Company. Second - see the first. You just don't do it, I don't care what you say!!.**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the lecture at hand. We've established that when babies are first born they're not cute, they look like aliens. We've established "baby algebra" and how regardless of what you think, it is still a crap shoot and math, once again, can be proven wrong. Hot x hot can in fact = not... We've also established that once your wee one has evolved past that alien looking stage, which is about a week or two in my opinion, that they fall into either cute/cute or ugly/cute. Now that is not to say they are a permanent fixture in either category so there is still a chance that Junior might "grow out" of that face, er, phase...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it boils down to this. Unless you are 100% sure that your little one is cute (and I am) then maybe just keep the picture show for later on in the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8759201114554584929-6106118526735009891?l=confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/feeds/6106118526735009891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/09/cutecute-vs-uglycute.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/6106118526735009891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/6106118526735009891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/09/cutecute-vs-uglycute.html' title='Cute/cute vs. Ugly/cute...'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05217731015772577494</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/S6oIDAGiL0I/AAAAAAAAAC4/Ss2GuuFScGo/S220/IMG_1396.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/SsndMRX95gI/AAAAAAAAABY/LhnkpYbNSpY/s72-c/IMG_1050.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8759201114554584929.post-4293465773265984828</id><published>2009-09-28T10:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T08:04:27.502-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The joy of the unsolicited opinions or UFO's</title><content type='html'>Probably one of the most challenging parts of raising your baby is the unsolicited opinion. Now to be fair (and clear), not all "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;UFO's&lt;/span&gt;" (unsolicited f#$king opinions) are without merit. There are often times when they come in extremely handy and helpful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;*These are also not to be confused with solicited opinions - thanks to all our family and friends who have helped up along the way. Brooklyn also says thanks!!*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Where was I... right, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;UFO's&lt;/span&gt;... Okay, so your little boy or girl has come into the world by now and maybe, just maybe, you've figured out a few things in the first couple of days/weeks. Everyone is (hopefully) excited and happy for the new parents and really want to do what ever they can to help.. Here's the tricky part... Often, and I do mean often, that "help" comes in the form of a "UFO" and it starts off small. Something as simple as how to dress them, bathe them, change them, which is great but this can and undoubtedly will evolve to something much more, how shall I put this..... irritating!! The part that is most often funny (see: irritating) for me is that a lot of the time these "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;UFO's&lt;/span&gt;" are offered up by either a) someone who hasn't had kids at all b) someone who doesn't even know you or most commonly c) someone who hasn't had kids in the last 3 to 5 decades!!! Not to sound ungrateful or cynical but doesn't anyone realize that modern medicine and general child rearing has come a long way in 50 &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;friggin&lt;/span&gt;' years. I know YOU think our &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;daughter&lt;/span&gt; is hungry but WE know HER feeding habits! I know YOU gave your baby a bumper pad in their crib and made them sleep face down but WE DON'T! I know YOU are totally against giving babies pacifiers but WE AREN'T (and neither were the dental professionals we asked, so &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;MEH&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;)... If you are so against them then how's about I give you a call at 3 in the m-f-&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ing&lt;/span&gt; morning when we she's &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;inconsolable&lt;/span&gt; for god knows why??? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, that's what I thought...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to those people, god love ya, that don't have children for a variety of reasons but still feel inclined to share their 2 cents from their fountain of baby knowledge and experience... Just keep it to yourself for the time being, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;hmm&lt;/span&gt;. We'll ask you if we need help, thanks.. Same goes to those people who have either just met you, have only known you for a bit or have known you for a while but haven't spoken to one another in years.. You folks can put a sock in it too... Love ya, but zip it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope this little bit of insight will save you some frustration, perhaps and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;argument&lt;/span&gt; or two and maybe get you to put the safety back on before you go "postal". Good luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8759201114554584929-4293465773265984828?l=confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/feeds/4293465773265984828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/09/joy-of-unsolicited-opinions-or-ufos.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/4293465773265984828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/4293465773265984828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/09/joy-of-unsolicited-opinions-or-ufos.html' title='The joy of the unsolicited opinions or UFO&apos;s'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05217731015772577494</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/S6oIDAGiL0I/AAAAAAAAAC4/Ss2GuuFScGo/S220/IMG_1396.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8759201114554584929.post-7662875366907807836</id><published>2009-09-24T03:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T02:05:18.504-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To my wife and baby girl</title><content type='html'>Sometimes you stuggle in life. Sometimes you need a helping hand. Sometimes you forget to tell the ones you love how much they mean to you. Sometimes you take that for granted and don't realize that one day they may not be there to catch you when you fall...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes what you need to say has already been said by someone else...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ooo I need your love, babe&lt;br /&gt;Guess you know it's true&lt;br /&gt;Hope you need my love babe&lt;br /&gt;Just like I need you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hold me, love me, hold me, love me&lt;br /&gt;I ain't got nothing but love, babe&lt;br /&gt;Eight days a week&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you every day, girl&lt;br /&gt;Always on my mind&lt;br /&gt;One thing I can say, girl&lt;br /&gt;Love you all the time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hold me, love me, hold me, love me&lt;br /&gt;I ain't got nothing but love, babe&lt;br /&gt;Eight days a week&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eight days a week&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;br /&gt;Eight days a week&lt;br /&gt;Is not enough to show I care&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to Mr. Lennon and Mr. McCartney for their words. More often then not, they've already said exactly what you might be thinking or feeling. So take note&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you "K" and Brooklyn, with all my heart. You make life worth living. Thanks for catching me when I fall.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8759201114554584929-7662875366907807836?l=confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/feeds/7662875366907807836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/09/to-my-wife-and-baby-girl.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/7662875366907807836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/7662875366907807836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/09/to-my-wife-and-baby-girl.html' title='To my wife and baby girl'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05217731015772577494</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/S6oIDAGiL0I/AAAAAAAAAC4/Ss2GuuFScGo/S220/IMG_1396.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8759201114554584929.post-8668960712605717780</id><published>2009-09-10T05:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T07:05:56.024-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Brain - it's real and it's spectacular</title><content type='html'>Baby Brain - perhaps you've heard this term if you are already a dad or going to be one in the near future. If not, then this should be your forewarning, so pay attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember exactly when it started but I would say it happened around the 4 to 5 month period and continues on through until the baby is born and in fact, several months after that. Baby Brain is the process by which the wee one eats away at any and all brain functions. General movement is not seemingly affected but you can wave bye bye to all &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;cognitive&lt;/span&gt; thinking, normal intelligent conversation and sentences that don't involve "goo-goo" or "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;gaa&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;gaa&lt;/span&gt;". Your baby is officially an &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;"intellectual parasite"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; that is being harboured in your wife/girlfriend uterus and is living on her brains.... &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;MMMMMM&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;bwains&lt;/span&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It starts off slowly.. Staring aimlessly into space, pregnant (no pun intended) pauses between a question asked to answer given and the classic muddling of words. Nothing too significant by any means. Ah, but wait, there's more. Pretty soon all memory is shot to hell and the formulation of sentences are virtually non-existent. Imagine having your tongue 10 sizes too big for a mouth 10 sizes too small... That kind of stumbling over your words - it is just brutal... The birth of your child actually does nothing to help and in fact hinders the recapturing of ones linguistic abilities. How much can one develop (or redevelop) when your partner in conversation can't even lift their own head yet let alone speak?? Talk about reverting back to ones "caveman/woman" self, you end up sounding like Tarzan mixed with The Incredible Hulk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Baby no like sleep", "Mom need baby too sleep", "Baby go sleep now"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FYI, this process isn't unique to women either. I told you, they are &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;"intellectual parasites"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ... As soon as you hold your baby, an cerebral osmosis occurs fast and without warning... That little smile on their face when you pick them up and make funny faces at them or make strange noises, they aren't laughing at you. They are laughing because they are sapping you of all your brain power. They've got you right where they want you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At some point this may go away and both "Ky" and I will resume normal brain functioning, I hope.. But until then I will bask in the glory that is our new dim witted, unfocused, brainless selves... Thanks a lot Brooklyn, thanks a lot...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Daddy no like having no brain, me miss smart talk"....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8759201114554584929-8668960712605717780?l=confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/feeds/8668960712605717780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/09/baby-brain-its-real-and-its-spectacular.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/8668960712605717780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/8668960712605717780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/09/baby-brain-its-real-and-its-spectacular.html' title='Baby Brain - it&apos;s real and it&apos;s spectacular'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05217731015772577494</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/S6oIDAGiL0I/AAAAAAAAAC4/Ss2GuuFScGo/S220/IMG_1396.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8759201114554584929.post-9009451262821273909</id><published>2009-09-05T05:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T07:06:41.305-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pregnancy - the female version of a pissing contest</title><content type='html'>Okay so weird title to a blog I suppose but let me elaborate on that thought and it will become clear what it is I mean. As a guy, watching your wife/&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;girlfriend&lt;/span&gt; go to countless showers is an interesting process. The concept still boggles my mind but I understand that much like a wedding shower they are meant to give the couple/baby a little jump start in their new life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, here is where it gets funny from the husbands perspective - or at least my perspective. Pregnancy is the female version of a pissing contest - no two ways about it. They can deny it until the day they die but it is 100% true... Allow me to explain. As guys, we do this in a variety of ways... Do these sound familiar??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Got here in 4 hrs 5 minutes and didn't stop at all, shaved 20 minutes off the trip from last year!! Made great time!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;or &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, I &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;musta&lt;/span&gt; drank like 40 beers that night. Took home this model and her girlfriend and we &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;yadda&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;yadda&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;yadda&lt;/span&gt;..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;or&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ya &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;shoulda&lt;/span&gt; seen it, me against like 10 guys in a fight and I pounded them all... then partied the rest of the night"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, the usual "d!ck swinging" that occurs when a group of us guys are together and our friends Jack Daniel's, Jose &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Cuervo&lt;/span&gt; or &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Anheuser&lt;/span&gt;-Busch are being passed around. Generally harmless, always funny and always to be taken with a grain of salt (and lemon and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;tequila&lt;/span&gt; as the case may be..).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Women - forever more cerebral then men - use the "shower" format for their own version of this contest. Showers, or as I later learned any opportunity at all, are when the ladies get to bludgeon the mom-to-be with their tales of the tape, so to speak. To the untrained eye and ear of a guy it could sound like the normal, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, "hen house cluck fest" talk that occurs when women get together in large groups. But, to the trained ear, the normal random chatter is filtered into an onslaught of "anything you can do I can do better".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"48 hours of labour and he came out sideways with shoulder pads on"&lt;br /&gt;"Well, my little one took 4 days to be delivered and was breach, back labour and had a barb wire umbilical cord - 30 lbs 14 oz 32 inches long"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;***Thought size didn't matter ladies***&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Please, mine was a week long delivery and then after he was born, in the middle of the night, jumped out of his bassinet and climbed back in!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;The list gets longer each time. The baby gets heavier &amp;amp; longer and labour time goes from hours to months, and so on. Sounds a lot like when we go fishing ladies, scary to think you're not that different from us eh?? Now having said all of that, some women deserve the opportunity to flex their "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;uterine&lt;/span&gt; muscles". "Ky", as my only example, has every right to brag, in my opinion. A few days prior to giving birth to Brooklyn we went to the hospital thinking it was go time. Turns out - Kidney stones. Nice... Few days later she gave birth and unfortunately had to have some minor surgery to allow Brooklyn to enter this world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;**Sidebar: this is where the whole "extra stitch" joke comes into play - slip the doc a 50, it'll work.... Joking, don't do that...**&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Several days after Brooklyn was born, "Ky", while still healing, was back in the hospital with more Kidney stones. Did I mention her labour was 12 hours and most of that was pushing... These are non-&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;embellished&lt;/span&gt; stats so I give my wife full props for being tough as &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;friggin&lt;/span&gt;' nails. I'd have passed out on push number one I think... So to recap - kidney stones, labour, kidney stones. I believe the term "bring it" comes to mind..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So all I can say is, listen in once in a while fellas, you may hear some interesting and funny "stories" that resemble our version of "the one that got away"....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8759201114554584929-9009451262821273909?l=confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/feeds/9009451262821273909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/09/pregnancy-female-version-of-pissing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/9009451262821273909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/9009451262821273909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/09/pregnancy-female-version-of-pissing.html' title='Pregnancy - the female version of a pissing contest'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05217731015772577494</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/S6oIDAGiL0I/AAAAAAAAAC4/Ss2GuuFScGo/S220/IMG_1396.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8759201114554584929.post-9032922444495311707</id><published>2009-09-04T04:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T09:01:25.357-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drool, poop and spit up - that's what baby girls are made of</title><content type='html'>At this point in my tenure as "da-da" there have been many an occasion in which upcoming dad's ask some very interesting but important questions... One of the most common is this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dude, I don't know if I can handle changing diapers. I can't deal with the smell. Is it as nasty as I hear it is??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here is the answer - &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Yes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It smells wicked bad, it looks just as bad and you will undoubtedly wear some of it at some point. But guess what, you will survive. I personally don't know what "real" food does to the digestive system of a little one yet as we have yet to cross that bridge but "boob juice" (aka - breast milk) and a little formula equates into some of the most interesting "movements" you've seen or smelled. And I work near a bloody duck farm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth is after the first couple, you get used to it. Now by no means am I implying that it becomes enjoyable at any point because that's just not the case. But you develop the necessary ability to hold back the old gag reflex. &lt;strong&gt;Poop is now a way of life.&lt;/strong&gt; Wait until you have to empty the garbage/diaper genie - week old diapers are a punch to the senses like none other my friend. Some days you just have to sit back and applaud because there is no earthly way something that nasty should come out of something so amazingly cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;another good tip - don't cheap out on diapers...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; We tried to go more cost effective and ended up having more blowouts then a Jerry Springer show... And they never happen when you are prepared (IE. change of clothes). *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After poop is the much more palatable drool/spit up factor. At this point neither are really that gross but some ill timed spit up can cause some grief. Ready to go out for dinner - &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;BLARGH&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - now you are changing your shirt (or entire outfit for the ladies - since something no longer matches the shoes/purse/earrings/whatever you were wearing). It is otherwise harmless. The drool, in my opinion, is quite funny. Nothing says "I love you dad" like a gigantic "wet willy" from your 5 month old daughter. Who knew they could get their whole damn fist in their mouth and then your ear!!! I swear Brooklyn must be dehydrated 24/7 because she is a never ending fountain of drool. Shirt - soaked, hands - ditto, feet - you betcha, and if she is really on fire her pants and probably what you're wearing too. It is a sight to behold. Love that teething...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left out pee only because having a girl is nothing like the challenge of taming a baby boy and his - how shall I put this - you remember when you were a kid playing in the backyard in the summer, jumping through those sprinklers shaped like an octopus with arms flailing around.... &lt;strong&gt;picture that&lt;/strong&gt;. But just as a heads up - you are getting peed on anyways. So enjoy, because it is part of the package.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Just remember that when your old and sporting diapers yourself you get to return the favour...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8759201114554584929-9032922444495311707?l=confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/feeds/9032922444495311707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/09/drool-poop-and-spit-up-thats-what-baby.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/9032922444495311707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/9032922444495311707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/09/drool-poop-and-spit-up-thats-what-baby.html' title='Drool, poop and spit up - that&apos;s what baby girls are made of'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05217731015772577494</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/S6oIDAGiL0I/AAAAAAAAAC4/Ss2GuuFScGo/S220/IMG_1396.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8759201114554584929.post-5763610432551822209</id><published>2009-08-24T05:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T13:06:11.987-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sacrifices to be made</title><content type='html'>I am not saying I have it rough by any means but I have noticed that there is a long list of sacrifices that are made with the arrival of a "wee" one. Some are far more noticeable then others but there are many. Here is a quick run down of what I have noticed along the way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Sleep - whether your baby is great or not, sleep is at a premium!!&lt;br /&gt;* Money - duh, they cost money even when they are that small. New clothes, diapers, formula, the list is as long as they are. Not to mention you may be working with one less income too FYI.&lt;br /&gt;* Free time - remember when you could just sit and chill, read a book, stare aimlessly into space... Say bye bye to those days, they are dead and gone until they leave for college...&lt;br /&gt;* Social life - now to be fair this isn't always your fault. It seems that babies breed exclusion. Friends will often not want to "bother" you and yours so that the baby doesn't get disturbed. It can also work in your favour as it is a great out for events you aren't that interested in. Don't over use it though... "We have to get home to the baby" doesn't fly when they are two either!!&lt;br /&gt;* Patience - find a way to keep it or you are done...&lt;br /&gt;* Hobbies/Frivolous purchases (see: No Money) - see you later "new shoes", catch you later "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;blu&lt;/span&gt;-ray's", it has been real "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ipod&lt;/span&gt;". These are realities that you'll have to come to on your own. I struggled, and still do, but when you put it into perspective... I'd rather my daughter have food and clothes over the newest Jay-Z album (or whomever)&lt;br /&gt;* Sex-life - not applicable to all and depends entirely the delivery and how "fat" or "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;un&lt;/span&gt;-sexy" your significant other feels.. Best of luck... Oh and it may be that extra 10 to 20 lbs you put on with her - aka, sympathy weight... in case you were wondering. Don't worry she'll tell you!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is a quick rundown for the yet to be dads... Hope it helps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8759201114554584929-5763610432551822209?l=confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/feeds/5763610432551822209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/08/sacrifices-to-be-made.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/5763610432551822209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/5763610432551822209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/08/sacrifices-to-be-made.html' title='Sacrifices to be made'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05217731015772577494</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/S6oIDAGiL0I/AAAAAAAAAC4/Ss2GuuFScGo/S220/IMG_1396.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8759201114554584929.post-8184586094804808460</id><published>2009-08-19T04:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T07:08:39.450-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My little girl</title><content type='html'>Well, a few months into this whole dad thing and I think I've got a pretty good handle on how this goes. That is until the little one decides that she wants something different. Watching your child grow and figure things out might be one of the most incredible things you'll ever witness. The discovery of hands and feet and how easily they can be jammed into ones mouth. The recognition of mom and dad's voices and smells. The knowledge of - if I cry they come and check on me - which she figured out early and now uses to her advantage. Rolling over from back to front or vice &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;versa&lt;/span&gt;. It is pretty special to see that look in their eyes when the "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;light bulb&lt;/span&gt;" goes off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have noticed a few new things about myself too. Now, if you'd have asked me at the beginning of my wife's pregnancy if I wanted a boy or a girl I would have said " I don't care as long as they are happy and healthy" and "as long as mom is okay and baby is okay everything else is details".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LIED...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a man, silly as it may be, I wanted a boy. Whether it is the whole "carry on the family name" thing or just having a little version of me around - I don't know, it is dumb regardless. I couldn't be any happier to have had a little baby girl and wouldn't change it for the world. Having said that, the prospect of having a girl is the single most terrifying thing in the world for me. And here is why....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was at the drive-in with "Ky" and Brooklyn not that long after she was born - we needed a night out!!! I couldn't help but notice that there was a LOT of &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;pre&lt;/span&gt;-teen/teenage boys and girls running around. Upon closer inspection of the situation, I noticed that, as boys and girls do, there was a lot of flirting and playful touching to just &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;blatant&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;make out&lt;/span&gt; sessions.&lt;br /&gt;**I SHUDDER AS I WRITE THIS**&lt;br /&gt;I can't handle the thought of that stage in my little girls life. The boys, the heartbreak, the ...uh.. sex. I just want to lock her up until she's 25... If she gets my wife's body and looks with my height I might just end it all... Picture a 6 foot tall Reece &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Witherspoon&lt;/span&gt; with bigger boobs... No dad should have to handle that. The other thing is if she brings home one of these disrespectful punk kids, and you know who you are, it is over. I hope that by the time she is that age that this whole "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;emo&lt;/span&gt;" look and the "popped collar" crap is long gone. Look, I get the whole trying to be yourself and express who you are by being original and what not, but here is a news flash kids...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"YOU ALL LOOK THE F**KING SAME!!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does everyone shop at stores with birds as their logo. Try and get a job with your ear lobes all stretched to hell, or has anyone seen a CEO wearing "guy-liner" - don't think so...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can handle the bras and the periods and all of that stuff that comes with being a girl. The physiology of it is not something that scares me. But the first boy that she brings home... I feel sorry for that poor bastard - whether he's nice or not - he will feel the wrath of DAD.. I apologize to both Brooklyn and "Ky" because I just don't know if I'll deal very well at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I have a while to go before she's at that stage so I might just have enough time to wrap my head around it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the words of the wise "Larry the Cable Guy" - Lord, I apologize....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8759201114554584929-8184586094804808460?l=confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/feeds/8184586094804808460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-little-girl.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/8184586094804808460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/8184586094804808460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-little-girl.html' title='My little girl'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05217731015772577494</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/S6oIDAGiL0I/AAAAAAAAAC4/Ss2GuuFScGo/S220/IMG_1396.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8759201114554584929.post-1403967417963908324</id><published>2009-08-18T05:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T07:09:17.039-07:00</updated><title type='text'>March 25th, 09</title><content type='html'>March 25&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; of this year marked a new moment in my life. One that forever changed me and my outlook on &lt;strong&gt;me&lt;/strong&gt; as a person. March 25&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; marked the birth of my first child, a beautiful baby girl - Brooklyn Rose. What a gloriously scary and incredibly magical moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The magical part should be obvious. Watching my wife "Ky" bring new life into this world was enough to make the most callous and robotic person weep like a baby. Now that's not to imply that I am that person (I'd like to think I am not), but I certainly did shed a tear or two - okay, I fell apart. It is probably the most indescribable thing I have ever witnessed, but if you are a "dad to be" don't miss it, you'll regret it forever. We will come back to that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The scary part is less obvious and completely different for every new dad, or at least that is my &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;suspicion&lt;/span&gt;. For me it was many things wrapped up into this little 7lbs pink package. Gone are the days of being irresponsible (or less responsible), welcome to the days of having someone completely dependant on you for everything and anything. I'd like to think I was prepared for that but it is really something more organic then that - something you evolve to (or through). Now lets be clear, my wife does the majority of the work, but I have been - in my opinion - a very hands on dad. I didn't want to be seen as or feel like an absentee father, I decided very early on that I wanted to have a very hands on approach to the raising of my daughter (and children if we have more). That was my decision and not every guy out there has the capacity for it or the interest, which is a shame. I heard a saying a long time ago that really stuck and I am surely paraphrasing but the point still stands....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Any fool can make a baby, but it takes a man to raise a child"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I don't claim to have any or all of the answers because I am not that naive but I have figured a few things out in the last few months. And I will do my best to illustrate them in some detail and chronological order over the next few posts since I now have 5 months to recap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the best place to start is from the beginning...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;March 24&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; around 11:00 pm: "Ky" wakes me up to tell me it is go time... It wasn't that nicely put but to be expected as I am sure she is in pain and scared too. Off we go to the hospital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now gentlemen, lets be clear... Fatigue and what I can only assume is terrible pain doesn't breed warm and fuzzy love from your wife/girlfriend. She's going to be vocal with her general displeasure with you and pretty much everything stupid you've done thus far in life. Try not to take it personal - I say try because it sure isn't easy. Just realize there is no earthly way you'd handle that pain so let keep it in perspective - take a few shots to the old pride or squeeze a soft ball through your manhood, take your pick. I'll choose the shots, every time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;**I know you think you can take the pain but we get incapacitated by a kick to the jewels. Now imagine that feeling for several hours. Personally, I want to barf just thinking about it. **&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second thing a new dad's should know. EPIDURALS ARE YOUR BEST FRIEND. Great for mom and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;conversely&lt;/span&gt; great for you... Let me tell you, once "K" got that bad boy she was as calm as Hindu cattle. God love modern medicine. Now I will side step some of the details here to spare my wife but there really is no way to sugar coat 12 hours of pushing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ky" was an absolute champ and after all her hard work she gave me the best gift a man could ask for..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/Soqz3nHyGFI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ELybS577f9s/s1600-h/brooklyn+rose1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371303273568540754" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/Soqz3nHyGFI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ELybS577f9s/s320/brooklyn+rose1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Brooklyn Rose - 5 minutes old&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7lbs 0 oz, 19 inches&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 fingers 10 toes... All awesome&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Rose is after my &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Omi&lt;/span&gt; - who was a dynamic, beautiful, strong, intelligent woman. Not unlike my wife. Brooklyn has some incredible roll models*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay big guy... the 9 months of preparation are out the door because the slap of reality is here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Sleepless&lt;/span&gt; nights are real and start right away for a whole bunch or reasons... Crying - check, feed me - check, too hot/too cold - check, is she breathing - check, the list of worries goes on and on. With any luck your wife/girlfriend and you are still talking and can now enjoy this little amazing creature you've brought into this world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first night is torture for sure but you'll be amazed at what you can accomplish on zero sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reality of being outnumbered and outgunned as the only male in the household has set in.... Can't wait to see what day two brings... I will elaborate another time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I close off however, be sure to check in with Mom too... If you are anything like me you'll be totally captivated and in love with your new bundle of joy. A love you can't explain. But lets not forget the person that just did the 9 month tour of duty. She still needs to know she is your queen and that all her hard work didn't go &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;un&lt;/span&gt;noticed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is go time "dad's", let's show em' what we're made off...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8759201114554584929-1403967417963908324?l=confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/feeds/1403967417963908324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/08/march-25th-09.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/1403967417963908324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8759201114554584929/posts/default/1403967417963908324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofanewdad.blogspot.com/2009/08/march-25th-09.html' title='March 25th, 09'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05217731015772577494</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/S6oIDAGiL0I/AAAAAAAAAC4/Ss2GuuFScGo/S220/IMG_1396.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mcSF8GQZ_yc/Soqz3nHyGFI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ELybS577f9s/s72-c/brooklyn+rose1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
