Sympathy Pain

I’m a huge believer in kissing. I think every woman deserves to be reminded that she is a woman from time to time with a heartfelt kiss. Now one of those “see ya later, gotta go” kisses, or even the “get ready, sex is emanate” kisses, but a real “this is because you are the most amazing woman I know” kiss.

In this crazy world, we sometimes forget to show the woman we love exactly how much she means. We forget that a kiss, one that gives butterflies, is one of the best ways to show it. I know men who think kissing is something you do as a salutation, but a real kiss can happen at any time. The best are the ones that are spontaneous and unexpected. Getting into a car to go to the super market. At the supermarket. Sitting around watching football…or “so you think you can dance”. Laying in bed, talking. No occasion. No grand exit. And no expectations. The best kisses are those without strings attached. Now, I’m not saying that it may not lead to other things, but the best ones don’t start with a “plan”.

I can’t tell you how to kiss…everyone is different and wants to be kissed in special ways. I’m not a “I’m going to eat your face” kisser. Sometimes I do have that “devour her” urge, but that’s different. I can’t stand the “eyes wide open” kiss either…it’s like kissing a fish. My wife and I think the other is the world’s best kisser…which works out well. So, whatever way your lover likes to be kissed, discover it. Use it. Experiment. But don’t forget the power it can wield. I guarantee, if you do it right, you’ll feel the butterflies too. It will also do the kids good to see that you guys still get mushy, but don’t get too crazy in front of the kiddies.

6 to 9 Months

What Your Baby Likes: Seeing people he recognizes, interactive games, cause-and-effect toys.

What’s Behind the Smiles: By 9 months, he’s beginning to understand object permanence, the concept that an object or person still exists even after leaving his line of sight. He’ll show you he understands this when he cranes his neck over his stationary activity center or high chair after a toy falls to the floor. He’ll like it all the better if you pick up the toy for him to toss over the side again.

His memory is growing now, too, so what left him laughing yesterday — hearing his sister sing a silly tune — might make him chuckle days later when she does it again, says Michelle Gross, a developmental psychologist who directs a Centers for Disease Control-contracted parenting research project for kids from birth to age 5.

What You Can Do: Initiate a game of peekaboo. He’ll also like having you help him hide a stuffed animal or toy under a blanket and asking, “Where’d it go?”

Play a modified game of airplane with your baby by lying on your back, knees bent, and placing him on your shins. Make whooshing sounds as you gently “fly” him back and forth and side to side.

Toys that allow your baby to push a button and watch something pop up are sure to induce a smile. I remember adding voices to a pop-up toy featuring a farmer, cows, horses, and sheep. Emma would bust out laughing at my deep “Farmer Fred” voice.

Making dinner and need a distraction for your baby? Offer up a couple of pots and pans along with a wooden spoon. He’ll like knowing he’s capable of creating such a racket. Speak to him as you both “cook”: “Mommy is making mashed potatoes for dinner tonight. What are you making? Looks like green beans! Stir ‘em up!”

It’s the general consciences about Tony. He’s an extremely laid back baby. I know as result of writing this that he is changing into a demon child. However, that’s what we get all the time.

Consequently, I think all other children his age are on crack.

This weekend, I had to pick up a dryer from Best Buy. I had lined up a truck and timed my day, but hadn’t really thought about the fact that I was the lone parent and the car seat couldn’t go in a truck. So Saturday morning I had to do some begging of friends to watch Tony while I made this happen. Sandra, the grandmother of Maddie, agreed to watch him. So I slapped some food in him and off we went.

Now, Maddie is about a month and a half older than Tony, so she is more advanced in motor skills and such, but I wasn’t prepared for the difference in personality. It was like night and day. Maddie was almost vibrating, looking around, reaching for mom, trying to see Tony. Tony…could care less. Just laid back and watched.

“It was hard to tell when he was unhappy.” Sandra said.”He always seems ok.”

I thought maybe this is just the difference between these two, but then we went to dinner with the Ronda and Steve.

Tony was playing, setting up, with a toy. He lost his balance and fell over…and laughed.

“Our’s would never have laughed. They would have cried.” Steve said with the sound of disbelief.

Then this morning, his teacher (is that the right term for daycare?) went on and on about how good and happy of a baby he is.

“The only time he is fussy is when he’s hungry, dirty, or tired. And we can do something about that, but even then, he’ll try to smile the whole time he is whimpering. The other babies will wail for no reason, and he just takes it in stride”

I think he has adopted his parents outward, laid back, attitude. Our house is usually very quiet and non manic. I think that makes a huge difference with a baby…or he’s just waiting to let loose now that I’ve publicized his mellowness.

I saw this study today…and sadly, it doesn’t surpise me.

ATLANTA, Georgia (AP) — About 1 in 50 U.S. infants are victims of nonfatal child abuse or neglect in a year, according to the first national study of the problem in that age group.

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You try not to compare your child to other children…unless they are superior…but you do. When everyone else’s babies are conjugating French verbs and yours can’t find his feet, you start to get paranoid that he’s a tard. You start blaming yourself. Maybe you’re not doing something right.

Maybe you’re doing the wrong activity. But that can’t be. You’re always right. Someone else is to blame.

So maybe it’s…the other parent. What in the hell has she been doing…or not doing…in the 15 minutes you’re not there to witness it. No, that’s crazy…or is it. He is clearly behind all the other infants.

Well, maybe it’s whoever is watching him during the day. Yes…”The Grandmother” she must be doing absolutely nothing but leaving him on the bathroom floor. No that’s crazy…we’d see the tile marks.

Then it happens. The one moment that says, “Hey, your kid’s not a vegetable.” He rolled over. Twice in one day. How awesome is that. We knew we needed to do more belly time. But he hated it. Was crazy grumpy attempting it. Jack and I were playing Wii. Bowling, I believe. I was a pimp and he was Elvis. It’s a great bowling game.

“He did it.” I hear from the nursery over the baby intercom, “Bryan, He rolled over.

So Jack and I run in and celebrate…then back to the Wii. We couldn’t get too crazy. He then did it again later, just so I could witness it. It was awesome.

He’s a genius. I can’t wait to find other babies his age that aren’t as advance and judge their parents.

I’ve written about my realtionship with my ex- before. It may not be the stereotypical divorced with child relationship, and I think we are lucky that way. However, this sometimes leads to strangeness, especially where her family is involved.

Little expositional info. Her family is large and extremely close. It took me about 2 years to get down how belonged to whom and where the family tree forked and such. I come from a small to medium sized family, and we are just close enough. Nobody in our back yard to check out our dirty laundry. We see each other on major holidays and send cards. The ex family mostly live in the same zip code and their are easily 25 family members in a 20 mile radius. I never have more than 4 in a 100 mile radius. And they like each other an are extremely loyal.
Sounds great, right. Well it is…if your apart of it. So, one of few things I hated about the divorce was loosing her family. Lawyer, Dentist, Chiropractor, pediatric nurse, construction contractor…all in my cell phone.
So now, years after the divorce, our story begins.

Saturday, during a peaceful walk with my family, after working on Jack’s “Valentine Box”, the phone rings. It’s Jack’s bio-mom’s mom…Nanny. I think some thing’s wrong. Maybe the bio-mom has been attacked by a Hydra…or something. No, she just wanted to check on Tony and Sarah and, after prompting, said hey to Jack. felt strange, but Nanny is an extremely nice person, so I shrugged it off. She has even offered to watch Tony…again, nice but kinda odd.

Then, last night we took jack home. Bio-mom was at a relative’s house. The patriarchal head of the clan. So we stop to drop him off, and Nanny descends on the car, insisting we bring Tony in for the family to see. We are way off in the docks…I had a feeling we were about to become some domestic violence statistic. However, the ex- family was extremely sweet and loved that Tony bot. They also wanted to take photos of the binja…again, the baby not related to them. He is Jack’s brother, but there is no blood relationship back to this family tree, so it was just odd.

Well, we made it out…but the pucker factor was high. I admit I am blessed to have the kind of relationship I do with my ex-, but it really was odd to stand on the orange shag carpet I had grown accustom to over the 9 years of marriage, and hear my ex- say, “this is Sarah, Bryan’s wife and their baby, Tony.” Very twilight zone.

“You should be a pro, you’ve already got one.”

“This is old hat for you.”

I was holding Tony last night thinking just how different this is from my first child, Jack. Yes they both peed, pooped, and cried, as Jack says, but the difference in everything else is pretty staggering.

They bath are pretty laid back…knock on wood, and happy, but the likeness ends there. Even though I was home far more with Jack, I connected with Tony earlier. It may have to do with having no expectations with Tony. With Jack, the marriage was strained. We had wanted a child, and tried before him, but I think I was hoping he’d also help patch up the unfix-able. So when the ex-would come home from work and crawl into her bed, leaving me with Jack, I resented it…and him. I loved him…no doubt…but I didn’t bond with him and just fall in love until later. Tony was much easier. Again, I had no expectations. We are pretty sickeningly in love, so tony is like a bonus.

I remember being tense and easily rattled with Jack. Yes, I was inexperienced, but I think I was also a darker person. I don’t feel that with Tony. Even when he’s screaming in my face, I have this calmness that helps me through. It also helps him that I’m not worked up. There were times when Jack could make me need to walk away. Now Tony’s young…so maybe…

I guess I’m writing this to say; make sure your house is in order before having a child. As a man and father, you are already at a disadvantage. We aren’t wired to be parents. We don’t have hormones and chemicals that kick in to help the bond. So don’t think a child will be easy, especially if you are not happy with your life. Don’t bring a child into that. As a good friend says…”get your own shit right.”

Now, here’s the Catch 22… I would do it all again if Jack is the result. I would go through the unhappiness and disappointment all over again to have my son. He is amazing…and owns my heart. He’s me…at that age…crazy and all. His mother and I were not good for each other…but we made a pretty awesome kid.

Bryan’s parting thoughts…

Children are not a band aid for relationships. They are not a way to get more back from the man. They are not a way to get out of work. They are a blessing and a challenge. Be as ready for that as you can be. But even if things are 100% perfect, you can still bond and love your child. It just doesn’t come as easily…but it still can be awesome.

When I was growing up, there was a ta bu about talking real politics with my parents. I think I may have ask them who they were voting for once, and the reply was “You shouldn’t talk about that. It’s a private decision.” We would talk about it in high school, amongst my peers, but never directly to an adult.

So last week, my son ask me who I was voting for…

It seems that that stigma stayed with me.

“I don’t know.” I replied.

“My mom and step dad are voting for …”AHHH!!! I wanted to cover my ears and start humming loudly. I shouldn’t be hearing this from a child. It was a weird, almost physical, reaction.

My wife and I talked about that yesterday. She had the same reaction to his asking her. It was just something not talked about between children and adults.

Then I saw this article. I think it’s kinda creepy to have your child wear a sandwich board at 10 years old for any candidate…other than class president.

Is it a southern thing? I don’t fully understand it, because I want my kids to grow up understanding this democratic system we live in, so why shouldn’t we talk. It just feels…dirty. Next time, I’m just going to by him a Hustler and send him to his room.

My ex- and I get along pretty well. We share in Jack’s needs and wants. There are times we butt heads, usually falling into old patterns that caused the divorce to begin with. At other times, we are a united front. Here’s examples of both…within a 24 hour time period.

I dropped Jack of Sunday night, after a very full weekend of sports and family. He had no homework, which was awesome. However, not 3 minutes after leaving her house, she called me.

“Why didn’t he read his book? I sent it in his book bag.”

So I tried to explain that he had read other things, and she began to dove into my not being responsible for his education needs, and I…and so on. It was really kinda ridiculous. Not what the argument was about, but that the argument happened at all. It should have taken 5 minutes with the agreement being made that I would make sure reading books are considered homework and her agreeing that she needs to be clear about things I may not know since she is the primary care giver. But, it was 30 minutes of accusing and pseudo name calling. I guess 9 years of marriage will leave a few sore spots that take just a small verbal bomb to set off.

So the next night, After I had called to tell him goodnight, I was on the couch, feeding Tony, and the phone rings…as it does when your hands are full. It was the ex-
“Gotta second?”

I figured she was either still steamed about the book or going to apologize for the conversation.

“I’m feeding Tony, but yeah.”

“I’m going to talk to Jack’s principle and insist that he be taken out of this teacher’s class.” Hmmm, thinks I.

“What happened?”

“Well, he was asked to complete a math question on the board and got it wrong. It was the only one he got wrong out of the ten on his paper. The teacher, in front of the class, said ‘He didn’t belong in second grade’.”

My jaw hit the floor. Who says that? What kind of person says that to a 7 year old. He was crushed. He spent all last night saying he wasn’t smart enough to be in second grade. Now, he has an ‘A’ in math, and most of his grades are ‘B’s or high ‘C’s.

“Do you want me to come up?” I ask.

“Well, I don’t know if I can get a definitive time for a meeting, and you are almost an hour away. If I can, I’ll let you know and you can come up.”

“Well, do what you have to do. That’s not ok to say. If the principle won’t do anything, let me know and we can take other actions.” I was pissed, and so was she. We had a common enemy. We’ll see what happens

I guess that’s the way it will be. Their will be times when we go toe to toe over things, mainly because of our past, and others where we will be willing to go shoulder to shoulder.

So…it happened. Not 24 hours after posting how my nights go with Tony. I got up at 2 when I heard that little “I’m hungry” whimper. I get him out of his crib. Throw his bottle into hot water. Sarah prepares a bottle every night…which helps a bunch. I change his diaper, grab a drink for myself, hit the head, grab him and his bottle, and settle in on the couch. Turned on the tube, started flipping through info commercials and bad late night TV.

After about half a bottle, I burped him…and he spit up. “That’s weird, he usually doesn’t do that.” So I clean him up and get another burp cloth and settle back in.

After the bottle was empty, I burped him again, and instead of the sleepy baby or happy baby I’m use to, he has a look of “oh shit” in his eyes. I burp him some more, and he spits up more. “This isn’t fun”.

So about 3 hours later, after rocking and burping and walking and burping and snuggling and burping we collapse on the couch. No good bonding time, just a helluva fussy baby. After a quite 15 minutes, I get up and get him to bed and pass out beside Sarah.

He woke Sarah up about 30 minutes later to eat. it was a long night for the binja.

One of my favorite times of the day is around 3:00am. Yes I’m sleepy and a bit bearish at first, but once I’m up and around, the next hour or so is cool.

“Why’s he up so early?” “Where’s Bryan and what have you done with him?” Well, it is true I like my sleep, but the 3 am feeding is mine. Tony is a very laid back kid, or my feelings on this might be a little different, so the middle of the night bottle is a good time for us. It’s one of the few times in the day that the house is quite, I’ve got total control of the remote or music, and it’s just us. Sometimes we play alittle, others is just business and back to sleep.

I know many fathers who are apprehensive about time with the baby. They don’t speak the same language. They do weird things like looking for a nipple on your arm. Their movements are automatic and non controllable. They are so fragile. They cry. Guess what, they are the exact same way for mom. So whatever fears you have, know that mom is probably having the same ones. It’s natural. However, you need to build a bridge. put the negative behind you. Know that you can do this.

Have fun. That baby is going to cry and you are not going to cause permanent damage if he does. Just stay relaxed. Talk to him. Laugh. Give him good vibes instead of stress. The important thing is to stay in control. Just relax. If you feel yourself going to the dark side, take a break. He’ll be fine. Then, have fun. play with those toes. Make “super flying binja baby”…or something. Burp and hold him. Snuggle. It’s all fun stuff.

So that’s why, my friends, I can get up at 3:00 am and, within just a few minutes, have a smile on my face…even if the boy is trying to eat my arm and whimpering. It’s all about attitude. Just remember to have fun.

Yes, we went out last night…to an adult get together of sorts. My friend Doug invited us over for some gumbo and camaraderie last night. We haven’t really done that with the baby, either gumbo nor camaraderie, so we decided to go. We had a blast and Tony stole the evening. He’s just very laid back…unless he’s hungry… and was great last night. He even discovered Bob Marley. Maybe he’ll become a reggae artist.

The Gumbo rocked. I had never eaten this bayou concoction, but I will place it on my list now. Sarah, having spent time in Alexandria LA, was very familiar with Gumbo and gave it the thumbs up. Being Italian, she doesn’t give food a positive rating unless it’s really good. Maybe Steph can give us a good Gumbo recipe.

Now, I can hear some of you now…”That baby’s too young to have out with groups.” Settle down. They were all great about the baby, and nobody licked him or sneezed on him…that I saw.

Doug is also a photographer. So we took the opportunity to get some publicity shots of Tony. They look great. We will gladly give them to the tabloids for a small fee once Tony gets famous.

We were there for about an hour, and I think it did both of us good to get out on a non baby related errand. I think it’s very important to get out as people instead of slaves of the baby. I also know that Uncle Doug loved holding that baby. I see them getting into trouble in a few years.

Here’s a sample of the pics taken last night. For more you’ll have to go to my Flicker page . Caution, there is alot of cute to be had.

We went to the OB today. Sarah is at 39 weeks. She’s past ready to have the baby. Today we talk about induction, according to the doctor last week.

I started thinking about what my job was as the guy at the OB. I perused some magazines and tried to find something other than an add to read. I read parts of the articles to Sarah. They were ridiculous at times. I made obligitory eye contact with the 2 other men in the waiting room. I tried to figure out the flower arrangement in the middle of the room…to no avail.

It’s my job to get up when her name is called, only to set back down when they want her only for the weigh in an pee test. More magazine flipping, and a few more nods of the heads to fellow dads-to-be. I know I’m not alone when I see them. (more…)

Can’t do it with a butter knife.

We had friends over tonight. They have an amazing 16 month old boy. I’ve always felt a little bond with this one. He’s a cutie.
We also had Jack tonight. I rarely get to see him with a little one in this house. Usually we are at another house when this type of interaction occurs. It was really weird to see him in his element with another little one. He was very sweet with the little one…he always is. But I also noticed him just doing stuff to get attention. He was scrubbing his way across the floor on his butt, asking if “a normal person would do this”. I could see that the only child in him was screaming to get attention, but the gentle little boy he is was also there making sure Matthew had a good time…letting him play with his toys, helping him around, and showing off the animals. It was just a foreshadowing.
I also saw me being torn between the 2. It was the first time, in this house, that I had to split my time between 2 children. It was a little strange. Again, Jack is old enough and good natured enough to understand…now, with a guest. It will be curious to see if that good natured self wins out over the only child side. And if I can recognize how to split my time and when to merge us as a family.
And on the Santa List front…I am getting up at 6:00 tomorrow to try to beat the crowd to get Jack a Wii. I have had the worst time finding one, but hopefully I can get one tomorrow at one of the Thanksgiving sales. It’s like getting a freak-in tickle me Elmo or cabbage patch kid. Times…they have a changed.

Since the beginning of time, kids tune into which parent plays what roles and prey on that. Who will say yes to ice cream? Who will say yes to a sleep over? Who will say yes to a week in Amsterdam at an opium din? It happens. I did it. I watched my sister do it. It was different for each. I could do no wrong in my Mom’s eyes…not that I ever did. My sister is my Dad’s child.
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