BumbleDad

Yep.  Birthday.

I have exactly 365 days to become the answer to life, the universe and everything.  No pressure.

(And if you don’t get that reference, the Google result will be even more confusing to you.)

Jen is dropping Daphne off with the grandparents and meeting me at the office so we can attempt to go out for dinner like civilized people.  We haven’t been to Khyber since Daphne was born, so it’ll be nice to exit the land of ubiquitous Subways and Wendy’s and head into the city for some real Indian food.

Speaking of the suburbs, I saw what was quite possibly the most Texas thing ever on my way to the office this morning.  There’s a MASSIVE shopping center that’s being built along the Katy Freeway, and its anchoring stores are:

Golf Galaxy
Buy Baby Buy (Hard to believe this name isn’t a joke…)
Field & Stream
and
Destination XL

A consumption nexus for fat guys with kids who interchangeably enjoy both golf and killing things…   Yes, that sounds like where I live.

Anyway, this one is going to be short since I’m leaving work early for the aforementioned celebratory dinner.

See you tomorrow.

j.s.

There’s a lot of this stuff floating around the Interwebs these days, and quite a bit of it is didactic, feel-good drivel.

None of it helps resolve the real problems.   Like how to quell a toddler tantrum, the stoic refusal of meals, dog/baby coexistence, or how to properly respond when your kid swings into a wall.

And what I’m endeavoring to accomplish with this post is not to help you navigate those moments (you’re on your own there, big guy), but to instead share a few things I’ve learned that have helped make things better.  High-altitude, gestalt Dad tricks.

So here we go:

If there’s one thing you take away from this, it should be to remember to stretch.  Every. Single. Day.

Now conventional list-making strategy suggests that you put the most important thing at the end.  But I don’t want you to miss this if, for whatever reason, you have to stop reading.
Seriously.  It’s that important.

Stretch.  Every day.  Not playing.

You’re going to be bending over to lift your kid out of a crib, off the floor, out of a car seat, etc, and there’s no way to perform that whole “always lift from the legs” safety maneuver.
No, it’s a 90° bend at the waist kind of poor form; one that coquettishly whispers, “you don’t have to do this, you know…” to your back muscles every time.
And now, once you’ve got the kid airborne, you now have to carry them around while trying to accomplish all the other things that you need to do.

Like picking out a Christmas tree, for example.

This inevitably requires a lot of twisting, balancing, and weight correction while your toddler squirms in your arms like a 20 lb. epileptic honey badger.  All things that dare your spinal muscles to depart on a non-stop flight to ‘Effthis-istan.

And this says nothing about the time spent sitting, lying, and/or crawling around on the floor, all of which can wreak havoc on unprepared muscles.

“C’mon Daddy!  No time to rest!  We need to crawl in circles for an hour.” 

So yeah, stretch.  I take an extra couple minutes after I’m done showering to do arm reaches (both up and down) and then a few gentle twists at the waist.  Takes no time at all.

Look, I know.  We’re all busy people.  Most of the time it feels like we’re Kenyan sprinting through the survival savannah.  But you need to take a few minutes to be there when your child goes to bed, or when they get up in the morning.  One or the other.   (Obviously both is better, but not many of us are that lucky.)  Just pick one, and make it a point to rarely, if ever, miss it.

Because the memories of laying your languid, sleeping child down into their bed for the night, or seeing them smile blissfully up at you from the crib in the morning, or catching a few quick snuggles before you both start your days…

These are incredible moments that happen every day, and they’ll carry you through any rough patches that lie ahead.

Also, for dads of kids that are still being breastfed, this a great time to feel less like a walking pressure escape valve, and more like you’re actually a part of your newborn’s daily routine.

It doesn’t make you a bad father to need some time to yourself.  Even Superman had a Fortress of Solitude where he could take a quick break from attending to humanity’s piteous cries for help.

“Oh, this one?  This is my Xbox crystal.”

The key to this is to MAKE SURE you tell your partner what it is that you’re doing.  Something as simple as, “I really just need a few minutes here…” works to let your spouse know that you’ve hit the proverbial wall.  Or, if you’re like me, you can fully embrace hyperbole and say things like “If I sit through one more minute of “Squeak,” I’m going to commit a d-Con hate crime.”
Both have the same effect.

Obviously there’s lots more dadvice I could dispense.  But most of it is pretty specific and, let’s be honest here, I’ve only been doing this for 15 months.  I’m still a rank novice.

But these are a few things that have worked pretty well for me, and so I thought I’d pass them along.

Good luck.

j.s.

Hi.

I wrapped up my second round of homebrew on Saturday.

Despite looking like a Diaper Genie, this is actually my fermenting bucket.

This time I made a blonde ale that was supposed to have an ABV (Alcohol By Volume) upwards of 7%.  Strangely, much like the last batch, it once again ended up quite a bit lower than that.  Albeit this time it’s right at 5%, which is fine by me.  (The last one ended up being about 2.5%, and it tasted like beer-flavored Kool-Aid.)  Maybe our water has some chemicals that the yeast doesn’t like?  Next time I’ll try using spring water instead.

Regardless, I tried a sip before I bottled it and it’s actually pretty damn good.  Hopefully the carbonation process will go well and I’ll end up with some brew that’s suitable for sharing.  (I’ve a case and a half of 12 oz. bottles.)

I also forgot to mention this yesterday, but while Daphne and I were at the local Toys-R-Us I noticed that they already had their Halloween stuff out.

I’m of two minds about this.

First, it’s awesome.  Because cheap bags of Smarties, Tootsie Rolls, and Sixlets are a portent of awesome things to come.  Namely, autumn.

This means I’ve very nearly survived another summer in Texas.  (And my air conditioner only went out once!  *knocks on wood*)  And while this has been the hottest week on record this year, seeing Halloween costumes reminds me that cold fronts, dry air, and chilly nights are in the mail.  And they can’t get here fast enough.

It also means that the holidays aren’t far away which, shocker, is my favorite time of year.  Turns out the Texans start their preseason games this weekend, and there’s only 15 weeks until Thanksgiving.  /mindblown

But the other side, the side that’s not so awesome, has a lot to do with my wife.  This is the time of year when her vacation is winding down, and she has to somehow steel herself for the 10 grueling months of dealing with high school teenagers that lie ahead.  I love that she gets a couple months off each year to spend with our daughter, and it’s sad when those days come to an end.

And speaking of Daphne, I’m pretty sure I know what she could be for Halloween…

j.s.

I cannot speak for my wife, but the Summer Olympics are a nostalgic time for me.

As you may or may not know, I met my wife at my birthday party almost 8 years ago.

Here’s our “meet cute.”

Jib & me.  Adulting just before that party.

But our first real date (40+ people, a keg of Lone Star, and a ball pit does not qualify), was having dinner at a friend’s place.

The 2008 Olympics were in full swing by that time.  And as we sat awake and drank wine late into the evening, we watched Michael Phelps secure his 795th gold medal live.  (The games were in Beijing that year, so the middle of the night was prime swimmin’ time in China.)

As a result of that evening, I have a special fondness for the Summer Games.  Because they remind me of the night my wife and I started figuring out that we really liked one another.

My friends make every picture amazing.

Fast forward a couple years, at roughly the same time, and you’d find us here:

A year later, we were here:

They’d just handed us the keys to our new house.

And almost exactly 5 years after that, we’ve arrived here:

But each time the Summer Olympics rolls around, I’m reminded of that first night I spent with the interesting, smart and beautiful girl that, at the time, I had no idea would eventually become my interesting, smart and beautiful wife.  And who would later become a fantastically loving mother to our wonderful little girl.

Yeah.  I get all this from some lithe people flailing around in a pool.

Memories are weird things.

j.s.