mommy bias (or, how to flip the script)

i'm a few months into my new job as professional daddy, and i have a little bit of a bone to pick with the established order of things. i understand that i am in the minority when it comes to the primary weekday caregiver, but is it really that out of the ordinary that i get puzzled looks while at the store with emmi in a stroller? are other guys so inept that total strangers feel the need to impart unsolicited advice to me? it kinda gets on my nerves that the mom is always the one who controls everything and can make everything work when it comes to kids. it's as if i am some sort of societal anomaly.

even most of the advertising is geared towards the mom. 'choosy moms choose jif.' what about dad? well, either he doesn't give a crap about peanut butter, or he's a peter pan man. enfamil formula is 'trusted by moms and pediatricians.' dad, however, is apparently skeptical. robitussin is 'recommended by dr. mom' because dr. dad is out on the golf course. kix cereal is 'kid tested, mother approved.' meanwhile, dad's choice, the sugar honey sweetieos, sit unopened in the cupboard. why is it automatically assumed that mom unilaterally makes all of the household decisions? and if this is the case, how on earth does the dad claim the title, 'head of the household'? for the most part, dad is like the queen of effin' england - leader of the empire, but having no real power.

sometimes guys are to blame for this reduced stature. nothing pisses me off more than a guy who passes responsibilities off to the mom. 'i'm the man, it's not my job.' it is neanderthals like that that is making my life more difficult. something i've learned in my year of being a dad is that in parenting, there is no such thing as 'her job' and 'his job.' any and everything that mom can do, dad should be able to do just as well, with the exception of those things that are anatomically impossible. i will never claim to be a hell of a breastfeeder.

i'll admit, i used to play the clueless dopey dad while in public, cause it got a few laughs. i stopped that though because it played into a stereotype i wanted no part of. i am still by no means perfect, but i'd like to think i'm always improving.

and for the record, skippy is my peanut butter of choice.

i'm not a man, i'm a dad (or, how to know your role)

i was walking through home depot the other day shopping for stuff to strip wallpaper with when i realized that i know eff-all about tools. like, absolutely no knowledge whatsoever. if you asked me what orbital sanders are, i'd probably say kentucky fried chickens in space. i don't know a sawhorse from a seahorse. i know more about bacon bits than i do drill bits. i'm not sure why it happened that way; it just did.

now that i've converted to full-time stay at home dad, i find myself doing and liking things that would make any übermensch flush with testosterone-fueled rage. last week, i seriously considered dvr'ing icarly because after the 62nd time i watched the commercial, i felt compelled to find out what happens. i've also grown quite fond of spongebob squarepants. how can you not? he lives in an effin' pineapple after all!

see what i mean? at my age i should be interested in politics and home improvements and stuff. instead, i'm more concerned about what phineas and ferb are up to. this will get worse as emmi gets older, too. and she will also like girl stuff too, an area in which i also have very little to no expertise in, save for 2 years of stocking the barbie aisle working at a toy store while in college.

truth be told, i am perfectly ok with all this. i stopped worrying about trying to be a 'cool dad' a while ago because i've come to the realization that it is not me who will judge whether i am or not. emmi will. and she's the only judge whose opinion matters.

level up! (or, how to know when it's time)

well, i'm a month in to my daddy leave. it's been an adjustment for me. i used to concern myself with beer bottles, then wine bottles. now? baby bottles. however, i have tamed those twin evil monsters in the basement: the washer and dryer. i haven't ruined any clothes or flooded the basement (again) either, yet.

emmi is growing pretty quickly. or so it seems. just last week she was at the point in which we have to get her the bigger diapers. diapers go by weight, and there is really only one way to find out when it is time to switch, and it is not pretty. let's just call it, 'her butt runneth over.'

she's also moving around really well now too. when she first started to crawl, it was very slow and deliberate. now, i pull an effin' hamstring trying to catch up with her. she can pull herself up very easily as well. she's trying to balance herself and let go, and when she does she looks up at me with an expression that can only be described as half pride and half fear. it is this moment that i realize that she puts her full, complete trust in me. I had a similar experience with her as a newborn when we gave her her first bath. she had no idea how to react, and as kathy was washing her, she looked up at me with a look as if to say 'you got me daddy??' then as i smiled, held her hand and comforted her, she seemed to relax and let kathy clean her up. it's these moments that both make me proud, and scare the ever loving shit out of me. how do you balance letting her learn on her own, including falling and getting up and trying again, without making her think you aren't going to help? it's a balance; comfort her when she falls, but make sure she doesn't really get hurt.

i have a feeling that this is going to be a recurring theme.

3rd gear (or, how to cram a month of progress into two weeks)

ok, now we're moving! no really, emmi has figured out the whole crawling thing. she was stuck in neutral for a bit, just kinda on all fours rocking back and forth, like she wanted to go, but couldn't figure out the mechanism of moving. then she hit reverse, and was going places, only she was getting there backwards. then, finally, on vacation she took her first bold crawls forward. it seems to me that her whole idea of crawling is to get to a place where she can stand, because inevitably she leads herself to something she can use to her her push herself up. that, or she will go straight for whatever it is in the room you don't want her to go near. trash bin, bookshelf, coffee table, if you don't want her near it, that's exactly where she'll be.

it must be a great feeling though. i mean, for months she has probably thought: 'i'd sure love to touch all this stuff all around me, and hell, now i can!' (ok maybe not exactly, but you get the idea.) i almost feel bad when i have to point her away from something, (for safety, you know; not because she's managed to pull every dvd off the shelf.)

this newfound power of hers coincides with my taking 12 weeks off from work to play househusband/mr. mom. it has only been a few days so far, and (not that i would have before) but any douchenozzle dad that has to ask 'what have you been doing all day?' to a mom with an infant, that mom should have the right to kick him in the nuts repeatedly. when someone said motherhood is a full time job, they lied. it's a 24 hour, always on call, holy-shit-where-is-my-caffeine-iv type job. at least at a full time job you get an hour for lunch.

i don't mind being the househusband. i welcome it, in fact. i don't want to be one of these aforementioned douchenozzles that don't want to be involved because 'it's mom's job.' i hear that at the gymboreee class from the moms a lot: 'oh he doesn't wanna go because he feels out of place' or 'it's not his thing.' well shit! anything that has to do with emmi is gonna be 'my thing!' i hope she likes the stuff i like - i'd sure love to see her strike out all the boys in little league, but if not and she wants to take ballet, i'll cram my ass into a leotard and tutu to help her practice!

so look out world. i have a daughter that is on the move, and i am now a blood-oath made member of the stroller mafia. and i think i'd look great in a tutu.