I Hate Taking Naps

I Hate Taking Naps

I’m so tired right now, there’s at least a 30% chance that I’m dreaming this.

I don’t remember it being this tough with the first kid, but that might be because your brain makes you forget the early days of infancy so you’ll be stupid enough to do it again. Not only does the Hammer spend most of the night wide awake, he spends most of the night wide awake and screaming.

We’re only three weeks in, so there’s always a chance the kid will settle down and the screaming will stop and his sleep schedule will improve. But even if it does, I’m still going to be tired.

For one thing, I’m almost forty. For another, I’m a parent. And, perhaps most importantly, I don’t take naps.

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For Multiple Reasons

For Multiple Reasons

I have to correct something today.

The last ten months have been rough. The pregnancy was challenging and inconvenient for everyone, but for my wife it was excruciating. It took a toll on her, both physically and emotionally. She powered through, of course, because that’s what she does.

Unfortunately, lost in all the well-wishes for our new addition, forgotten amidst all the accolades about how adorable the new baby is, and how handsome he is, and how – apropos of nothing – he looks EXACTLY like me (score!), is a little recognition for Mom and Buried.

For multiple reasons.

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His Brother’s Keeper?

His Brother’s Keeper?

If things go according to plan, today will be my last day as the father of an only child. More importantly, tomorrow will be the first day of my son’s life as a big brother.

While Mom and Buried and I are learning all over again what it’s like to live with a newborn, my son will be exploring the brave new world of being a big brother. There will be jealousy. There will be territorial spats. Eventually, if his relationship with his brother is anything like every other sibling relationship, there will be wrestling.

Hopefully, there will not be blood.

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Hitting the Reset Button

Hitting the Reset Button

Five years ago, two weeks before Detective Munch was born, I wrote a post about whether I felt ready to be a parent. I did not feel ready. I knew nothing about babies, and the fact that I thought babies were the hard part proves I knew nothing about parenting.

In that sense, nothing has changed. I still don’t know what I’m doing, and it’s been long enough since I’ve held a newborn and changed a diaper that I might as well be starting over.

Next week, after five years of being a dad and (give-or-take) four years since I’ve had a baby to care for, we’re hitting the reset button.

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Expect the Unexpected

Expect the Unexpected

A kid in my high school biology class once asked our teacher if a woman could give birth to a snake. And we’ve been close friends ever since!

Thankfully, none of Mom and Buried’s ultrasounds have shown a cobra. And I already have a kid. So even though I’m not a biology teacher, and it’s been five years since I’ve had a newborn baby around and I don’t remember much about how to care for one, I have a pretty good idea of what’s coming (sometime in the next two weeks).

Yet despite the fact that I have an existing child on whom to base my expectations for my second baby’s personality and appearance, in reality, I don’t have a clue. And that’s got me pretty excited.

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